


New World, Same Old Problems

by RavenclawAngel



Series: Steve Rogers: Man out of Time and Place [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Captain America (Movies), Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Daily Planet, Dimension Travel, Gen, Gotham, Hurt/Comfort, Kryptonite, Metropolis (DCU), Nazis, Neo-Nazis, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Secret Identity, Whump, kryptonite poisoning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:15:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 43,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23436034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenclawAngel/pseuds/RavenclawAngel
Summary: The battle in Siberia does not go as planned. Now Steve Rogers has to face his sentence: Exile to Earth B. Let him be somebody else's problem from now on, according to General Ross. For his part, Steve isn't sure what to make of his new home or its inhabitants, but it's better than camping.
Series: Steve Rogers: Man out of Time and Place [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872217
Comments: 108
Kudos: 207





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So it's been a while, but I'm back. Because the world is ending I've been working from home, which means I've been watching every episode of The New Adventures of Superman. To celebrate my newfound obsession I wrote this story. Hope it keeps you entertained while you're stuck inside the house.

Steve reads over the deal again. He knows that by now he can recite it word for word with his eyes closed; still he reads it as closely as he had when the guards had delivered it to his cell door. He gets to the end and tosses it on the small table in front of him and scrubs the exhaustion from his eyes.

It’s a good deal. Everyone wins. Mostly. Bucky will get access to the best therapy around and all charges dismissed. The others will have their charges dropped as well. Tony will lead what’s left of the Avengers under the command of General Ross and Steve… well it’s not a treason charge and the death penalty, which until three days ago had been on the table.

Steve picks up the paper and begins reading the deal again. His mind drifts back to fight in the abandoned bunker, His shield poised over Tony’s reactor. He should have finished it. He knew that hesitating in battle was a rookie mistake, still he had paused. It was all the time Tony had needed. An arc reactor blast to the face had knocked him out and he hadn’t woken up until halfway through the flight home, his hands cuffed and his shield locked away.

Steve reads the charges and then reads his sentence: extra-dimensional exile. It sounded like something out of a ten cent novel he would have read growing up, but Tony had been by his cell and discussed the science behind it. Steve isn’t very interested in the science that goes into causing a temporary rift in the fabric of the universe just to shove him through and make him some other dimension’s problem, but he would have liked to know exactly where he was being sent to. Unfortunately, Tony couldn’t give him that kind of detail. Apparently it’s difficult to get data from other dimensions, but he did assure Steve that the atmosphere was suitable for human life.

Steve sighs. He’s a long way from his Brooklyn. Hell, Brooklyn now is a long way from _his_ Brooklyn. After traveling to the future why not add dimension hopping to his resume. Besides, what else was the government supposed to do with Captain America? They can’t let him go, Ross would never allow it, but they can’t keep him in jail, the public would never stand for it. Already he’s heard guards whispering about the ever growing number of protesters in the streets.

Steve picks up his pen and signs his name at the bottom. He probably should have waited for his lawyer, a nice gentleman who had offered to take his case pro bono, but he doesn’t see the point in wasting Mr. Murdock’s time. Nothing will change his mind. This deal is for the best, for Bucky, for Tony, and for the team.

When a guard comes in to drop off his dinner, Steve hands him the signed deal.

“You made the right choice Captain,” The guard says, “It’s better to spare the country the pain of having a trial for Captain America.”

Steve doesn’t bother with a reply. He just adds _America_ to the list of people and things that benefit from his accepting the deal.

Mr. Murdock doesn’t agree with his assessment. A fact he makes crystal clear the next time Steve sees him.

“Are you sure you weren’t under duress when you signed?” Mr. Murdock asks as they walk down the hall, his white can tapping in front of them.

“Yes. I made a choice that was better for everyone.” Steve s says.

“Not better for you,” Mr. Murdock snaps, “or for your supporters. There are lots of people who don’t support the registration act and you’re the face of that movement. Losing you would be a big blow to it.”

“What that movement needs are dedicated lawyers, not an old soldier who should have retired decades ago.”

Mr. Murdock’s face twists into a scowl, “don’t underestimate the power of public support.”

“If you need a superhero to be the face against registration maybe ask your buddy daredevil.” Steve suggests.

“Daredevil hardly has the same clout as Captain America.” Mr. Murdock says.

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugs, “I’ve seen some of his work. He really cares about Hell’s Kitchen. That’s all it really takes; someone actually caring enough to do something.”

Mr. Murdock sighs as they stop in front of the door to the courtroom. In a few minutes Steve will stand in front of a judge and plead guilty to a long list of crimes.

“Are you ready?” Mr. Murdock asks; his voice quiet and heavy with defeat.

“Yes.”

Steve steps into the courtroom. Journalists aren’t allowed inside, neither is the public. Steve is really only expecting the Judge, security, and maybe General Ross if he wants to gloat. What he sees makes his chest ache with appreciation and grief.

Bucky, Sam, Wanda, Natasha, and Clint sit just behind his chair. On the other side of the aisle sits Tony, who stares straight ahead refusing to make eye contact with any of them. Steve offers them all a small smile, only Sam makes an effort to return it. Steve hopes he’ll have a chance to say goodbye later.

“Mr. Rogers.” The judge greets.

“Captain Rogers. My client was never stripped of his title and will thus be addressed as such,” Mr. Murdock corrects. It’s a meaningless correction in the grand scheme of things, but Steve can’t help but to smile. He almost wishes he had rejected the plea deal just for the opportunity of seeing Mr. Murdock really let loose in the courtroom.

“Captain Rogers,” The judge says, “how do you plead?”

Steve straightens and ignores the six set of eyes burning into the back of his skull.

“Guilty, Your Honor.” Steve says. Behind him he can hear Wanda sniffle and Clint quietly whispering reassurances.

The judge reads out the plea deal as Steve nods along. Tomorrow at noon. Steve would leave this world behind and travel into the great unknown tomorrow at noon. He glances at the clock above the judges head. 4 PM.

The judge dismisses him. Steve turns and finds the others, except for Tony, crowding around him.

Natasha pulls him in for a hug, her lips pressed against the shell of his ear.

“Just say the word and I’ll get you out of here.”

Steve smiles and hugs her tighter. He’s sure she has several plans for smuggling him off into a new life, all of them would be a success of course. But if he backs out of the deal that means no therapy for Bucky and no pardons for the rest. He shakes his head and she steps back. She gives Clint a look as and jerks her head. Clint scowls and roughly pulls Steve in for a hug.

“You sure?” He mumbles.

Steve breathes in the smell of his leather jacket. It smells like his farm where his happy little family is waiting for him. He can’t make Clint risk that.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Wanda throws herself into Steve’s arms the moment Clint steps away, tears streaming down her face and red sparking from her fingertips.

“Wanda,” Steve sighs.

“We’re not giving up on you.” She says, her voice steal beneath tears. Steve doesn’t tell her that it would be for the best if they did. He doesn’t want his last moments with his team to be him getting scolded. He just nods and lets her go.

Sam is hugging him next.

“So this is really it?” He asks.

“Looks like it.” Steve says shrugging as best he can.

“Stark tell you anything about your new home?”

“Only that it’s compatible with human life.” Steve says.

“Bullshit,” Sam scowls, “They can’t do this. This has got to be unconstitutional.”

“It definitely is.” Mr. Murdock says. Everyone jumps, nobody noticed Mr. Murdock’s approach. This isn’t the first time Steve has noticed his lawyer’s peculiar habit of lifting his cane to sneak up on people.

“And I will be filing an appeal whether my client objects or not.”

“Good,” Sam says decisively. He steps back. Bucky awkwardly steps forward. There had been a time when Bucky would have been the first to initiate contact. Now he shyly clings to the edges and flinches when people approach to fast. Steve holds out his arms and lets Bucky step into the hug.

“I could go with you.” Bucky mumbles into his shoulder. Steve smiles but shakes his head.

“It might even be fun,” Bucky presses, “We always talked about camping as kids. Just packing up and heading out into the wild.”

“Yeah and then we both joined the army and realized we hated camping.” Steve says.

“Yeah, but it might be more fun if there aren’t any Nazis shooting at us.”

Steve huffs out a laugh before his smile fades.

“All the doctors who can help you are here.” Steve says. He lets his arms drop, “I’m sorry, but I’ve gone through every option and this is the best one.”

“That sounds like surrender.” Sam says, “But I didn’t think Captain America did that sort of thing.”

“He does when it’s not just his life on the line.” Steve says.

“We didn’t ask you to take the fall for us,” Clint snaps. Behind him, Natasha nods. Only the faintest flush of her cheeks belaying the fury Steve knows she’s feeling.

“I know,” Steve says, “but I was the leader and the final call was mine. That’s on me.” Steve says. From over their shoulders Steve can see a guard approaching. These are his last moments with the only people in left in the world that he cares about, that care about him. The realization hits him like a shield to the back of the head. He stares at them all trying to memorize their faces. He searches for the right words to say, but for the first time in his life he comes up empty.

Sam comes to his rescue.

“We’re going to miss you Cap.” He says.

“Me too.” Steve says. The guard steps up and shoos them away. Steve is reluctantly impressed by how passively the guard ignores the five death stares directed at him. The guard reaches out for Steve’s arm, only to be knocked away by a white cane.

“Captain Rogers,” Mr. Murdock says smoothly stepping into the space between Steve and the guard and latching on to Steve’s arm, “I want to discuss the appeals process with you as we make our way back to your…accommodations.” 

Steve isn’t sure how Mr. Murdock did that or the various other things Steve had noticed him doing. He doesn’t bring it up though; it wouldn’t be polite to pry, especially when Mr. Murdock has done him such a favor by taking his case in the first place.

“Of course,” Steve says, stepping past the guard and guiding Mr. Murdock down the hall, “but I really don’t want an appeal.”

Mr. Murdock ignores him, speaking adamantly about case law and their chances of taking it all the way to Supreme Court. Steve stops in front of his cell.

“Thank you again Mr. Murdock,” Steve says, “and I’m sorry if it’s been a waste of your time.”

“Matt.” He says, “The trials over, you can call me Matt. And it wasn’t a waste; I consider it an honor Captain Rogers.”

“Steve,” Steve says, “I don’t think the army really wants to claim me anymore anyways.”

Mr. Murdock’s lips quirk, “Not everybody in the army sees things like General Ross. You have more allies than you are letting yourself see.”

“Maybe,” Steve says, “but allies are no, I’m—”

He cuts himself off before he says happy. It’s not true and he has an odd feeling Matt would somehow sense the lie.

“I’m content with my decision.” He says instead. Matt cocks his head and nods, accepting his statement.

“Say hello to Daredevil for me,” Steve says, “and tell him to keep up the good work. I have a feeling we’re going to need more heroes like him after I’m gone.”

A strange look passes over Matt’s face, like he wants to smile but isn’t sure how or even if he should.

“I’ll let him know.” Matt says, “Goodbye Steve. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

From behind his cell door Steve watches Matt tap his way down the hallway. Restless, and perhaps more afraid than he’s letting himself admit, Steve paces the tiny cell. Five steps. Wall. Five steps. Wall. The hours tick by. Steve doesn’t stop. Five steps. Wall. Five steps. Wall. He should be doing something, finding a way to commemorate his last night on this Earth. In the corner of his cell is a small table. He could probably ask the guards for some paper. He could leave something hopeful and inspiring for the others to hold onto. Steve sighs. Five steps. Wall. Five steps. Wall. But Steve doesn’t feel hopeful or inspiring. He feels tired, and both too young and too old to be dealing with this. When he was an actual fresh faces twenty year old he had kind of expected the war to be the most difficult challenge he’s ever faced, but now he’s faced the future, aliens, Norse gods, and soon, interdimensional travel. He’d pray to God and ask for a break, but he’s pretty sure god stopped listing to him years ago.

Footsteps stop outside his cell. Steve ignores them, hoping the guard will go away. He’s not hungry for dinner.

“Ahem.”

Steve recognizes that voice. He turns around. Tony leans casually against the bars. Dark shadows under his eyes stand out against his too pale skin and his expensive suit hangs just a bit too loose from his shoulders. Despite that, he offers Steve a smile.

“Hey Cap.”

“Tony.” Steve says stiffly. He isn’t quite sure where he stands with Tony. They haven’t talked much since Siberia, but Tony was kind enough to support the deal that resulted in Bucky’s treatment. The silence stretches on.

“I just wanted to check up on you…see how you were doing.” Tony says awkwardly. Steve looks pointedly around his cramped cell.

“Right,” Tony sighs, and then brightens, “Oh, and sneak you this early.”

Tony reaches for something leaning against the wall out of sight and then pulls back beaming. Clutched in his hands, gleaming like the first day he saw her is his shield. Steve’s hand twitches.

“You’re giving this to me?” he asks, hardly daring to keep the hope out of his voice.

“I convinced General Ross that it was a matter of security. We couldn’t send you to a brave new world without protection.”

Steve snorts, he’s sure that’s exactly what General Ross was planning on doing.

“I’m not technically supposed to give this to you until tomorrow, so just promise me you won’t use it to break out.” Tony says. He doesn’t wait for Steve’s response before passing it through the bars. The rough leather of the strap feels right in his hands and he runs his fingers along cool metal. A piece of his settles.

“Thank you.” He says sincerely. Tony fidgets.

“Any updates about where I’ll be heading?” Steve asks. He treats it like a mission that he’s getting a report on. It’s easier to think about it like an extended mission, one that he may never come back from.

Tony shrugs, “Not much. It’s Earth though, or at least an Earth. But who knows how differently this Earth developed from our own. I’ve gotten some readings, there’s vegetation and…more complicated life forms.”

Steve straightens, “humans?”

“I don’t know, definitely animals, mammals even, but humans? That’s asking a lot.” Tony says. Steve doesn’t let the disappointment show on his face. He tries to imagine going the rest of his life without talking to another person, just alone with his thoughts. He wonders how long he will last before madness sets in. He grips his shield a little bit tighter.

“You ok Cap?” Tony asks. Concern lines his face, making the shadows under his eyes even more pronounced.

Steve gives him a smile that he used a lot on the campaign trail during the war. It’s bright and fake, but he knows Tony won’t know that.

“Yeah. Sounds almost peaceful.” He says, “Besides, I always wanted to try camping without getting shot at.”

Tony’s shoulders slump with relief.

“Yeah, peaceful.” Tony says. He straightens, “I should get going. I have a meeting with Ross that I’m already almost an hour later for.”

Steve and Tony share a small smile.

“Bye Tony.”

“Bye Cap.”

For a long time after Tony leaves Steve stares at his shield. He tries not to think about tomorrow or about how the last human face he probably sees will be General Ross. Instead he focuses on the positives; Bucky getting the help he needs, Wanda never having to wear that hideous shock collar again, Clint and Scott being with their children. This is the right choice. His sacrifice will be worth it. Besides, he reminds himself with a wry grin, it’s hardly the first time he’s laid on the wire for the greater good. With that thought firmly in mind, Steve drifts off to sleep.

Steve wakes up at early. The tiny cot in his cell is far from the most comfortable bed he’s ever slept in, but he takes a few minutes to savor it anyways. This will be the last bed he ever sleeps in. This will be his last morning in civilization.

Breakfast finally pulls Steve from his blankets. Steve eats slowly, appreciating every bite. He’ll have to hunt and scavenge for food, which means he expects many hungry nights ahead for him. He finds that doesn’t bother him much, he remembers plenty of hungry nights from his boyhood.

Matt knocks on his cell door.

“Are you ready Steve?”

Steve picks up his shield. He’s in his Captain America uniform. Personally, he would have preferred anything else, but the suit is reinforced and made for extreme weather conditions. It’s the pragmatic choice.

“Yeah. Let’s go.” Steve says.

Matt escorts him down the hallway, his face set in a scowl.

“I could stop this. Just say the word.” He says.

“Thank you, but I think this is the best deal I’m going to get.”

“If it’s the others you’re worried about, Fog- Mr. Nelson and I can represent them pro bono as well.” Matt says.

“Do you actually have any paying clients?”

Matt shrugs, but his scowl fractures into a half smile.

They enter the lab. Machines fill the room, all beeping and flashing and spitting out data at rapid rates. Tony is poking at a Starkpad while General Ross hovers over his shoulder. He breaks away though, when he sees Matt and Steve.

“Mr. Rogers.” General Ross says cheerfully.

“Captain Rogers.” Matt corrects. He plays with his cane, his knuckles white.

“Of course.” General Ross says shortly, the smile flickering, “Are you ready to go where no man has gone before _Captain_?”

No, he’s not. But he hadn’t been ready to fight aliens, or to wake up decades in the future, or to even put the plane in the water. The world didn’t care if he was ready, it never had. That wasn’t an excuse to not do what needed to be done.

“Yes sir.” Steve says.

“Good. Stand on that platform.” General Ross says coldly.

Steve steps past Matt. He feels a hand on his sleeve.

“Good luck.”

Steve stands on the platform, the leather strap from his shield digging into his hand. He stares at Tony. Tony stares at his Starkpad. Without looking up, Tony begins to speak.

“In 30 seconds the portal will open. You should be transported to Earth-B in that time. Good luck Cap.”

The countdown begins. 30 seconds. Steve takes in General Ross’s smug look, the top of Tony’s head, and Matt’s scowl. 23 seconds. He wishes the rest of the Avengers were here. Even if they couldn’t stop it, it would be nice to have friendly faces to say goodbye to. 18 seconds. He’s not ready to say goodbye. The future had just started to become his home. He doubts he will find that again. 9 Seconds. He could run. He has his shield; he’s taken worse odds before. 3 seconds. His mind screams at his feet to move. 2 seconds. He doesn’t move. The others need him to be strong. 1 second. Goodbye.

Red light glows around him, sending tingles down his spine. He feels as if he’s being zapped by Thor. The lab fades from view. There’s nothing. Steve is weightless in a void. He squeezes his eyes shut and then opens them several times. There’s no difference. Just when he begins to think something has gone wrong, his feet hit solid ground. Steve grunts as the impact sends him to his knees. There’s grass beneath his feet. He looks up. There’s blue sky above him…and skyscrapers?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve explores his surroundings and realizes he has different problems than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for comments and kudos! Enjoy!

Steve stares at the skyscrapers sparkling in the sunlight as he slowly stands up. He reluctantly pulls his eyes away to survey his soundings. He’s in a park, and not even a very big one. Not far from him he sees a woman pushing her daughter on the swings. A _human_ woman with her _human_ daughter. A grin works its way across his mouth and he sets off towards the skyscrapers.

There are cars in the streets, real cars! He never thought he’d those again. And men and women reading newspapers and carrying briefcases. Steve stares at them all, and gets some very odd stares back. He looks down at his uniform, silver star splayed across his chest, and the shield in his hand. It’s all a bit out of place, but he hadn’t been expecting people, much less a civilization. He needs a change of clothes…and money…and a place to stay…and possibly a job. Suddenly he has a host of challenges he wasn’t expecting, but it’s better than camping.

He wanders around the city. There are signs _in English!_ He stops in front of a rack of newspapers. The top one proudly proclaiming it to be _The Daily Planet._ The date in the corner reads July 10th 1994\. _1994_. He’s in the past, sort of. Still a long way off from the 1940’s though. He looks up at the skyline. It doesn’t look like New York City. He grabs a copy of the paper and skims the headlines. Metropolis. He’s never heard of it before. And Superman? Steve slows down to read more carefully. A blurry picture of a man in a red cape accompanies the story. The man reads like Thor, but without the lightening. He files that information away for later and goes back to skimming the headlines. There are more differences between this earth and his home. No Stark family that he can see, but Bruce Wayne seems to have taken the place of billionaire playboy philanthropist with a tech business. Bill Clinton is still president. It looks like the Afghanistan war started a few years early here, but judging by the article about the recent Independence Day celebrations, World War two had still happened on schedule. All good things to know for when he begins working on a cover story, but for now he needs a change of clothes and a place to stash his shield.

He begins looking for a thrift store, his eyes drifting up to the skyline as he walks. Metropolis. It’s not New York City, but it has a certain ring to it.

Steve finds what he’s looking for on the corner of 28th and 9th in the form of a small but clean white building. A sign with faded lettering welcomes him. Steve pushes the door open. He’s greeted by an elderly woman who Steve can only assume is visually impaired because she makes no reaction to his uniform or shield. Instead she directs him to the men’s section in the back of the store. As Steve peruses through the racks of out of style shirts and oddly sized pants he spots a flaw in his plan; he has no money.

It is, however, a problem Steve is very familiar with. He remembers, when times were really tight, having to trade services for goods instead of money. A few hours sweeping Mr. Mahoney’s shop could earn a nice dinner for himself and Ma, and Mrs. Lenore always needed help around the house in exchange for her tailoring skills. With that in mind, Steve approaches the cash register.

“Excuse me, Ma’am.” He says. The old woman, whose name tag says Gladys smiles in a grandmotherly way at him.

“Did you find everything alright, dear?” She asks.

“Well, actually I haven’t really looked.” Steve says, “I’m a bit down on my luck money wise so I was wondering if maybe we could strike a deal. I’ll clean the store, move any boxes you need me to move in exchange for a few pieces of clothing.”

“Oh that would just be lovely.” She says, “Normally Clark comes in a helps with that sort of thing, but he’s been so busy recently.”

She grabs the keys from the cash register and sets off. Steve follows.

“Just down there, the whole thing needs tidying I’m afraid.” She says nodding at a flight of stairs, “and all the blue bin need to be brought up and all the green bins need to be moved to the back wall.”

Steve nods along as she flicks on the light.

“Do that for me and you can have your pick of the clothes.” She says, waving him down.

“Can do ma’am.” Steve says. She giggles.

“So polite. Boys your age rarely are these days.”

Steve smiles and doesn’t point out that he is probably older than her. He heads downstairs.

Four hours late he emerges triumphantly. The floors are scrubbed army clean, the bins are stacked in their proper place by color, and several burnt out light bulbs have been changed. Gladys had beamed and kept up her end of the bargain and now Steve carries with him a bag filled with three dress shirts and three pairs of pants. In his other hand is a different bag, a large canvas one, meant for carrying large canvases of paint. Steve had had one like it in the 30s when he had thought a career in art was his future. Now instead of a canvas, sits his shield.

Steve feels a bit more normal walking through the streets in his new civilian clothes and canvas bag; he’s certainly not getting odd looks anymore. He’s still having trouble keeping his eyes from wandering back up to the unfamiliar skyscrapers around him.

Steve tries to focus. This may not be the wilderness, but he still needs a plan if he’s going to survive. He needs food and to figure out his living situation. He also probably needs a job. He wonders what type of job opportunities there are for ex-superheroes.

“Hey man, watch it!”

Steve’s bags and a young man’s camera crash to the ground.

“Sorry! Sorry.” Steve says scrambling to grab his shield’s bag before the other man could touch it.

“Its fine,” the stranger says, checking over his camera carefully

“Will your camera be ok?

“Yeah, no worries. It’s not the first time she’s met pavement.”

“Still, sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. Too much time looking up.”

The man smiles knowingly, “New to Metropolis?”

“Yeah, just got here today actually,” Steve says picking up his bag of clothes.

“Nice, where from?”

“New York City.”

The smile fades from the man’s face and his brow furrows, “Where’s that?”

Steve freezes. 

“Oh you know,” Steve says awkwardly, “It’s that big city right by Long Island.”

The man blinks, “…You mean Gotham?”

Steve feels his cheeks heating up, as the stranger continues to stare at him with a growing look of concern. He looks for an exit and dismayed to find no impending disaster to distract from this current disaster in the making.

“I guess so?” Steve says.

“You guess?” The concerned look on his face only grows.

“I have a head injury.” Steve lies, “it makes me forget things sometimes.”

The look of concern grows sympathetic.

“That sucks man. What happened?”

“The war,” Steve says vaguely and lets the man fill in the blanks about what war he’s talking about.

“Well, can I help you get home or anything?” he offers.

“No it’s fine. I’m still figuring that out. I just moved out here.” Steve says beginning to back up. He hopes the man takes the hint and ends the conversation. The man does not.

“Don’t you have family or friends?”

Steve shakes his head, “Not anymore.”

“You’re breaking my heart. Listen, why don’t you stay with me for a while until you’re back on your feet.”

Steve considers the offer. The man seems harmless and it’s not like Steve has any enemies yet in his new world. Besides, he’s not really in a position to turn down free housing. He smiles.

“I’d really appreciate that.”

“Great, I’m Jimmy Olsen by the way.”

“Steve Rogers.” Steve says shaking his hand.

Jimmy takes Steve back to his apartment. It’s a one bedroom with a pull out couch. Every inch of the walls are plastered with posters from bands and movies. A few names pop out to Steve, but most are completely foreign. He wonders if it’s another difference between the worlds or if his knowledge of the 90s is worse than he thought.

“Make yourself at home.” Jimmy says flopping on the couch. Steve sits on a faded green recliner that doesn’t match the rest of the furniture. He scrounges for a topic of conversation, anything that won’t make him look any crazier than he already does.

“So…What’s Metropolis like?” He asks.

“It’s great! You’re going to love it,” Jimmy says, “I mean, we’ve got Superman!”

“So I’ve heard,” Steve says, grinning at Jimmy’s enthusiasm, “Have you ever met him?”

“Loads of times,” Jimmy says and the reading the skepticism in Steve’s face continues, “It’s true. He saved my butt a few times. Everyone at The Planet has a story about him.”

“The Planet?”

“The Daily Planet. I’m a photographer there and Superman is a fan of us.”

Steve just nods, not sure if he believes Jimmy but without any proof to dispute him.

“So, what’s he like?” Steve asks curiously.

“Really friendly and so cool. Plus he’s got heat vision.” Jimmy says, “so that’s really awesome.”

“Heat vision?”

“Yeah and x-ray vision, and super speed, and super strength, and ice breath, and he can fly.”

Steve nods along as Jimmy regales him with stories of Superman, most of which Steve suspects are embellished. Assuming Jimmy isn’t pulling his leg, Steve would place Superman at around Thor’s level of power which is an impressive feat. He also seems to share Thor’s cheerful nature.

“I should head to bed,” Jimmy says, “Chief expects me in extra early tomorrow to get some of my most recent shots developed. Jimmy stands up and stretches.

“Hey, here’s an idea; why don’t you come with me to work tomorrow. I’m sure chief will be able to find something for you to do for some extra cash. He’s a softy like that.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Steve says, “and thanks. You really didn’t have to do all this for me.”

Jimmy waves away his gratitude, “It’s no big deal. Anyone else would do the same.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve adjusts to his new life, meets some very interesting people, and is reminded of old foes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter everyone! Please enjoy Steve's continued romp through Metropolis.

That night Steve sleeps on Jimmy’s couch, it’s much nicer than the cot he had been using for the past few weeks and their breakfast of doughnuts and coffee is better than the dry toast and watery eggs he’s been having too.

“So just remember, Chief can be a bit gruff but he’s a good guy,” Jimmy explains as they walk to the daily planet.

“I can handle gruff,” Steve assures him, “’Gruff’ was the nicest drill sergeants got in the army.”

Jimmy pushes open the doors and Steve steps into an office building that’s a flurry of movement and controlled chaos. Phones are ringing off their hooks as reporters shout cryptic headlines to each other. Jimmy slips easily through the crowd, avoiding being trampled by hectic reporters with a practiced ease.

They stop at a door that reads Perry White: Editor in Chief. Muffled shouting can be heard from inside.

“Aww man, Chief is giving it to Davidson real hard,” Jimmy says shaking his head, “He’s our new political cartoonist.”

Jimmy scrunches his nose in distaste.

“You don’t like him?” Steve asks.

“Nobody does. He’s been picking fights with everyone, but recently he went after Lois Lane. She’s our star reporter and trust me you do not want to tick her off.” Jimmy says, “Well, she gave it right back to him and he hasn’t stopped complaining about it since.”

The door swings open. Both men come storming out.

“Pack up your desk and don’t come back!”

Perry glares as Davidson storms to his desk and begins roughly collecting his pens. Perry turns and notices Jimmy.

“There you are! I wanted those photos on my desk by 8:30. Do you know what time it is? 8:27. Will those photos be on my desk by 8:30?”

“Good morning to you too.” Jimmy says.

“I don’t have time for good mornings, I have a paper to run.” Perry says and then notices Steve, “who are you?”

Steve opens his mouth.

“He’s a friend of mine.” Jimmy cuts in.

“A friend. Is today “take your friend to work day?” Just thought you’d give him a tour of the bullpen, did you?”

“Chief, he just got out of the army and he’s looking for work.” Jimmy says, “I thought maybe you could help him out.”

“I’m running a paper, not a charity,” Perry huffs, but he looks at Steve appraisingly, “the army you say, you go overseas?”

“I did,” Steve confirms, “and I can make myself useful. I can clean and move heavy boxes…but, did you just lose your cartoonist?”

Perry nods, glancing contemptuously at Davidson who is still packing his desk.

“I can do that too.” Steve says. Perry looks at Steve for a long time. Steve holds his breath and tries to look as respectable as possible.

“You have a portfolio I can look at?”

“Give me an hour and I will.” Steve promises.

“Alright,” Perry nods, “one hour, let’s see what you can do.”

Jimmy whoops.

“And you,” Perry adds, rounding on him, “get me those photos.”

Steve grabs a pen and gets to work. He skims through old newspapers to bring himself up to speed on the political landscape of Metropolis and then gets to work. Drawing is the easy part. He had often wondered what his life would have been like if the Great War had truly been the war to end all war like they had hoped, and often in those daydreams he’s in a job that involves a pen and a blank canvas. He had once considered taking it up in between Avengers missions, but between trainings and planning there had never really been enough time, besides he could never truly be sure that people would like his art because it was any good or because it was drawn by Captain America. But Captain America didn’t exist here and Steve Rogers does, and maybe those art dreams aren’t out of reach after all.  
Precisely 60 minutes later Perry stands over his shoulder, arms crossed. Steve hands in his work. It’s a little messy, and he’s not sure if he landed all the nuances of 90s politics but he’s satisfied with it.

“hmmm.” Perry says, flipping through the pages, “congratulations Mr. Rogers, you’ve got a job.”

“Thank you sir!”

“Now get back to work,” Perry says, “and somebody tell me where Lois and Clark have run off to.”

Seconds later, Jimmy appears at Steve’s elbow.

“How’d it go?”

“I got the job.”

“That’s great man,” Jimmy says slapping him on the back, “Come on, let me show you around and introduce you to everyone.”

Jimmy parades Steve around the office, sociably introducing Steve to everyone as The New Guy. The way he works the crowd reminds Steve of a young Bucky, before the war had stolen away his gregariousness. 

“Saved the best for last.” Jimmy says, “Steve, meet The Planet’s star reporters Lois Lane and Clark Kent.”

Lois hardly looks up from her computer as she rapidly types away, giving Jimmy and Steve a half wave. Clark smiles at them.

“Big break in a lead we’ve been chasing,” Clark explains, “a string of robberies has been funding a neo-nazi movement.”

Steve tenses, “Neo-Nazis, like Hydra?”

“Who?” Clark asks.

“They were—Never mind,” Steve says. If he didn’t exist in this world, its possible Red Skull and Hydra didn’t either. He makes a note to stop by the library on the way home. Clark gives him an odd look.

“If you know anything that might be helpful in tra—” Clark stops, tilting his head like a dog who’s heard his dinner bell.

“I have to go,” he mutters hurrying out so fast he forgets his jacket.

“Where are you running off to?” Lois asks racing after him, “if you have a scoop you’re supposed to share it with your partner.”

Jimmy watches them both rush out fondly.

“They’re great. You’re really going to love it here.” He says.

That night, Steve is restless. He’s not sure if it’s the smell of Jimmy’s attempts at cooking or Clark and Lois’s Neo-Nazi story that has him so riled up, but bounces from seat to seat unable to rest. He could go out and do some digging… but he’s retired…but they’re Nazi’s…but this isn’t his responsibility anymore…but fighting Nazi’s is everyone’s duty…but Superman will handle it…but will he? Steve has no doubt that Superman is a swell guy based on Jimmy’s stories, but he’s young, too young to remember the war. What if he doesn’t take the threat seriously?

He’s halfway out the door before he’s dragging himself back in to sit, and as soon as he sits he’s standing back up full of righteous fury and conviction.

“You ok Steve?” Jimmy asks stepping out of his smoking kitchen.

“Fine,” Steve says sitting back down. His leg jiggles and he fights the urge to stand up, “I just can’t stop thinking about that Nazi story Clark mentioned. Nazi’s in this day and age, can you believe it?”

“I know, it’s terrible but Superman will handle it.” Jimmy says.

“Yeah, I guess.” Steve says, “but these are Nazis.”

“And Superman has faced tougher things than a bunch of guys with a 1940s mindset.”

“Don’t underestimate them Jimmy,” Steve says darkly, “Nazis are like cockroaches, they always find a way to pop up again just when you think you’ve finally got rid of them.”

Steve stands up, “I’m going for a walk.”

The evening is warm with a light breeze that ruffles his hair as he walks. Car horns and the sounds of people walking, talking, laughing, and living their lives form a melody that all big cities have. Steve hums along to it as he turns down street after random street. He has no particular destination in mind, but when he passes the Metropolitan Library he stops. Superman can handle Nazis, he’s sure of it…but it doesn’t hurt to catch up on the history of his new home, and World War Two seems like a good enough place to start his research.

An old man with a bushy mustache and a bald head points him in the direction of non-fiction. From there, Steve finds several shelves dedicated the war efforts at home and abroad. Steve grabs a few books at random and settles down into an out of the way corner to read.

He starts with the big things; famous battles, key people, and important dates. They all match. With the exception of him and Hydra, nothing changed. The allies won the war without him. Steve grabs another book from his pile and keeps reading. Some of the names become unrecognizable as differences between the two worlds begin to shine through.

_“A low point for the allied science division came after the failure of the Super Soldier Program. The short lived program shut its doors for good in 1942 after the assassination of its head scientist Dr. Abraham Erskine, without ever producing a viable super soldier serum._

Steve snaps the book shut. They had tried. Who knows how close they had come. A Captain America in a world without Hydra. How would that have affected the Allies war efforts if Steve and his team had been freed up to handle some of the bigger battles? A thought strikes him; just because Captain America didn’t exist, doesn’t mean Steve Rogers never lived. Without the serum he imagines his life back in New York, or he supposes for this world Gotham, unable to join the war efforts but never truly giving up in trying to join. What kind of life did he lead? If he even existed. Steve decides that’s a thread he doesn’t want to pull on.

The librarian begins passing by his seat and commenting on the time. Steve takes that as his cue to leave, checking out a couple of the books from his stack as he does so. He bids the man goodnight and heads out into the street. The warmth of the evening has disappeared with the setting sun, but the city doesn’t let the night or the chill quiet it. The city roars, and then that roar gets loader. Steve frowns as fire trucks screech by. The faint hint of smoke wafts through the air.

He’s not Captain America anymore. There’s nothing he can do. Steve sighs. Tony was right; he really can’t stop himself from getting involved. He follows the trucks. As he gets closer he can see the flames against the black sky. Figures crowd around the window, the smoke making them little more than blurry shadows. The door is blocked by a wall of fire, but there’s a taller building next to it. Steve could climb that building and jump down to gain access from the roof of the burning building.

A red and blue blur flashes past him. Superman hovers in front of the window as a young girl is passed through it and into his arms followed next by her brother. He flies them back down before returning for their mother. He tops off the heroics by blowing out the fire. Steve is impressed; Jimmy wasn’t lying about the Superbreath.

Superman lands in front of the crowd of onlookers and reporters that has gathered. Steve leans against a lamppost to watch with interest. He wonders if he’ll get booming proclamations of victory like Thor every time he spoke to the press or if he’ll be a bit more classy and refined about like Tony. Steve is personally hoping for a Thor like approach. The media never quite knew how to handle him.

Instead Superman ignores the media to speak quietly to the children before waving them off towards their mother. He stands to a dozen cameras flashing in his face and offers a shy smile. He has none of Thor’s enthusiasm nor Tony’s swagger, but there’s a quiet sort of calm about him that Steve appreciates. Superman says a few words that reporters scramble to write down, before leaping into the air and flying away. Steve watches him go with a small smile touching his lips.

When he gets back to the apartment Jimmy is watching the late night news. A video of Superman floating the children to safety plays on the tiny television.

“Did you hear the news?” Jimmy asks not taking his eyes from the screen.

“I saw it.” Steve says. Jimmy looks up.

“You were there?”

“I showed up just around the time that Superman did.” Steve says taking a seat next to Jimmy on the couch as the news moves on to a story on pet adoptions.

“Isn’t he amazing?” Jimmy asks.

Yeah. He seems swell.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve meets Metropolis's resident hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos, and please enjoy the next installment. This chapter was very fun to write.

The next morning Superman is the talk of the office. Steve imagines that that is often the case. He pours himself a cup of coffee and follows Jimmy to Lois and Clark’s desk.

“And then he just blows out the fire, like they were birthday candles.” Jimmy says, “Steve was there, he saw it.”

“Did you really?” Lois asks, “You need to give me a quote.”

“I thought you and Clark were working on that Nazi story.” Steve says.

“We are, but Superman is front page news.” Lois says. She grabs a pen from her desk. From behind her Steve watches Clark roll his eyes.

“I don’t know, I think a breaking piece on Nazis committing robberies is pretty front page worthy too.”

“It is.” Clark says, “More so than Superman. He’s in the news every other week.”

“Hardly, and what Superman does is newsworthy. How many other people can blow out a raging inferno?” Lois asks.

“It was hardly a raging inferno,” Steve says. Lois glares at him ask Clark snickers.

“Either way, it’s still impressive. No other city has a superhero watching over it.” She says.

“I don’t know, Gotham has Batman.” Jimmy shrugs.

“Who?” Steve asks.

“He’s a myth.” Lois says.

“He’s totally real, they have pictures.” Jimmy says.

“Blurry out of focus pictures.”

“And eyewitnesses accounts.” Jimmy adds. Lois rolls her eyes.

“I’m assuming he doesn’t give interviews like Superman does?” Steve asks. Clark laughs.

“I think he likes being an urban legend.”

Steve nods knowingly. He sounds like Daredevil. Steve remembers trying to meet him once. He spent all night bouncing from rooftop to rooftop without even seeing a shadow of the man, but he had never lost the feeling of being watched.

Perry sticks his head out of the office, “I’m not paying you to stand around gabbing. Get back to work.”

Steve and the others amble back to their desks. He’s curious about Gotham’s vigilante. He’d try to find him, but he doubts he will have any more luck finding Batman than he did finding Daredevil. Besides, he reminds himself firmly, it isn’t his business. His leg brushes against his portfolio tote. It’s stiff with his latest pieces of art, and a little extra. He can just barely feel the outline of his shield amongst the canvas. Batman may not be his responsibility, but Nazis, even Neo-Nazis from another universe, will always be his business. He starts his investigation tonight, after work.

Steve fiddles with the fax machine. It’s beeping at him and Steve imagines the machine shares his frustration. He pokes a random button and the machine beeps faster. Steve finds the nineties to be a bizarre combination of both too modern and too old fashioned for him. While it’s true, even the annoying fax machine is far better than anything he had in the forties, it’s a far cry from the starkpad he had in the twenty-first century. Jimmy passes by and leans over his shoulder. He pushes a button, the same button Steve swore he already pressed, and the machine goes quiet

“It’s ok, CK also hates that fax machine too.” Jimmy says patting him on the back.

“Because this machine is a monster. Where is Clark by the way?” Steve asks.

“He ran out of here about an hour ago.” Jimmy shrugs, “Don’t know where too.”

Suddenly, the whole building shakes. Steve grabs Jimmy before he goes flying over a desk.

“Earthquake?” Jimmy asks. Steve shakes his head. That felt more like the Hulk than an earthquake. He runs to the window just in time to see Superman peel himself off the side of the building. He flies back down to where a man is standing in the middle of the street.

“Aww man, what is he doing here?” Jimmy groans.

“Who is he?” Steve asks.

“Metallo, but I thought that guy was in jail.” Jimmy says. He looks worried. Steve looks down on the street where Superman is keeping his distance as he circles his opponent. He also looks worried.

“What’s this guy’s deal?”

“He’s an android, completely metal body, but that’s not the real problem.” Jimmy says, “He’s got a kryptonite heart.”

“What’s kryptonite?”

“What’s kryptonite? Steve, you have got to catch up on local events. It’s about the only thing that can hurt Superman.”

Steve watches as Metallo’s chest opens with a green glow. Superman stumbles back, a look of pain crossing his face. Metallo advances on him, the glow in chest burning bright. Metallo abruptly with a smirk as he changes directions towards a crowd of civilians. Superman tackles him, pinning him in the middle of the street. Immediately, Superman’s face twists in pain. He rolls off Metallo weakly. Metallo stands and kicks him for good measure. Steve’s seen enough. He grabs his portfolio tote and takes off, catching an elevator as it goes down.

Captain America steps out onto the street. Steve tries not to think about how good the shield feels in his hands, ready to do battle. Metallo doesn’t notice him; too busy busting up Superman’s face to acknowledge a new challenger. Steve throws his shield. It sings as it flies through the air, hitting the back of Metallo’s head with a sharp clang before bouncing back to Steve.

“Leave him alone,” Steve says.

“Another costumed freak?” Metallo sneers, dropping Superman’s head onto the pavement. He takes in the star on Steve’s chest and red and blue of his uniform.

“Who are you supposed to be? Super American?” He asks. Steve doesn’t answer, but keeps an eye on Metallo’s open chest. He’s not sure what kryptonite does to humans, but if it can knock out Superman like that, it can’t be good. Metallo runs at him. Steve throws the shield at his legs and he stumbles into Steve’s fist. Metallo reels back. Steve catches his shield and bashes Metallo with it before delivering a powerful blow to the man’s gut. He continues to alternate, shield and fist, never giving Metallo a moment to catch his breath. It quickly becomes obvious that Metallo has no real fighting skills; his throws are sloppy and each move is painfully telegraphed beforehand. Even his advantage of kryptonite doesn’t seem to help him. Steve wonders if the serum is protecting him from its effects, or perhaps kryptonite just works differently on humans.

Though Steve is landing a majority of his blows, it doesn’t seem to do much. It feels like he’s punching one of the Iron Man suits. Metallo laughs, completely unfazed, as if he doesn’t feel the punches against his steel body. He’s like a nineties version of Ultron. That thought only makes Steve punch harder, each one landing with a metallic thud.

Steve doesn’t know much about technology, but he’s hung around enough with Tony and Bruce as they tinker in their lab to know that every piece of technology comes with an off switch. He just needs to find it. Metallo catches Steve’s arm.

“Give me that stupid Frisbee.” He growls trying to rip it from Steve’s hand. Steve let’s go of the shield to grab hold of Metallo and flips him. Metallo’s face smashes into the pavement and he drops Steve’s shield. It rolls away. On the back of Metallo’s neck, Steve sees it; a small switch. He prays that he’s right as he flips it. Metallo powers down.

Steve wipes the sweat from his brow and looks around for his shield. He finds it in Superman’s hands, a look of amazement on his face.

“Thanks,” Steve says reaching for it. Superman hands it over.

“Thank you,” Superman says, “Who are you?”

“I’m Captain…” Steve pauses. Captain America doesn’t exist here, doesn’t _have to_ exist here. “Just, The Captain.”

“Well Captain, you’re help was really appreciated out here today.”

“Don’t mention it.” Steve says, and then notices the reporters streaming out of the Daily Planet, “I’ll let you handle it from here.”

“You don’t want to give a statement?” Superman asks.

“Nah, I’m retired,” Steve grins, “this is all you.”

He checks his watch, almost five. In the chaos, nobody will notice Steve Rogers slips off work a little early. He gives Superman and the reporters a jaunty wave and takes off. He can hear Jimmy’s camera snapping furiously behind him. Steve chuckles to himself, it’s nice not having to deal with the press for once.

As the face of the Avengers he was often the one with the unenviable job of answering to the press. At first it wasn’t bad, but as the novelty of talking to _The_ Captain America faded, so too did the good natured questions. Soon every question became accusatory, why hadn’t he stopped the hulk from doing more damage? Why hadn’t they gotten there faster? Saved people better? There was also a healthy smattering of questions regarding tabloid gossip. Steve had barely restrained himself when a reporter asked if the Black Widow was really carrying his child. Natasha had thought it was hilarious. The smile slips from his face. As far as she knew, as far as any of them knew, he was wandering around the wild somewhere. He wishes he could contact them, just once, just to let them know that he’s doing ok. Steve pushes those thoughts from his mind. He can’t change things and he has a mission to complete.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A team-up for the ages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos everyone! I'm glad people are having fun with the story!

Hours later Steve patrols the docks from rooftops. He doesn’t know that the Nazis will be here, but back in his day the docks were always a popular recruiting spot for the American Bund. Bucky used to work down at the docks, Steve too when he wasn’t home convalescing from his latest illness. They would see Bund members with their pamphlets offering to buy someone a beer for just a few minutes of their time. They had never tried to approach Steve, with his weak lungs and tiny frame and they had only made the mistake of approaching Bucky once.

The streets are abandoned in this section of the city. It seems that Metropolis’s bustling nightlife doesn’t extend to the seedier portions of the city. Steve spots a few stumbling drunks on their way between bars, but nothing more than that. This is a waste of time. He needs a real lead, not a hunch based off how the Nazis behaved decades ago. He should head back to Jimmy’s apartment, get some sleep and question Lois and Clark tomorrow.

Someone lands next to Steve with a soft thump.

“Superman,” Steve greets.

“Captain, it’s a nice night for a stroll but there are nicer parts of Metropolis to go for a walk in.”

Steve glances at Superman who gazes out at the streets below them. Steve feels his shoulders relax.

“Really? Next you’ll tell that the street is more pleasant than the rooftops.” Steve grins.

“It’s certainly safer.”

“I’ll be careful,” Steve promises. He leaps, flying over the alleyway and landing on the next building with room to spare. Next to him, Superman lands.

“What are you doing here?”

“Did you hear about that string of robberies?” Steve asks. They’re standing on the roof of an old bar. One that looks like it was shut down years ago.

“The ones with ties to Neo-Nazis?”

“How did you know that?” Steve asks. He begins silently crossing the roof top. He cocks his head, listening but hears nothing. Another dead end building.

“Clark told me. He’s a… friend of mine.” Superman says, “But why are you looking for a Neo-Nazi group in the dead of night?”

“To stop them, obviously,” Steve says and then wonders if that was an obvious conclusion for Superman without the knowledge of Captain America. He thinks about trying to explain more, but doesn’t bother; wanting to fight Nazis should be pretty self-explanatory.

“I thought you said you were retired this morning.” Superman says floating alongside him. It’s a bit disconcerting to watch him hovering there a few inches above the ground, like an unusually solid ghost. 

“I am. I just need to handle this first.” Steve says and then stops. He sees a light go on and then immediately turn off in a building across the street.

“What are you doing here by the way?” Steve asks, still watching the building for signs of life.

“Same as you. Clark tipped me off that there was to be a meet up tonight.” Superman says. He follows Steve’s gaze and then stares intently at the building, a frown appearing.

“Five are inside, in the basement.” He adds.

“How can you tell?” Steve asks

“X-Ray vision.” Superman says and Steve silently gives Jimmy credit. The kid hadn’t been exaggerating.

“Ok so we need a plan?” Steve says.

“Do we?” Superman asks. Steve glances over and sees genuine curiosity on Superman’s face, as if planning ahead had never crossed his mind. Though, Steve supposes, when you’re as powerful as him planning becomes less important. But underestimating the enemy was a fatal flaw Steve had seen too many people make against the Nazis.

“Yes. We don’t know if this all of them or just a cell that’s part of a larger network. We don’t know why they’ve started robbing banks or what they plan on using the money for. For all we know they used the money to stock up on Kryptonite.” Steve says. If Natasha were here he knows she would be calling him out for breaking into his lecturing voice, but Superman nods as if he’s never considered those possibilities.

“Ok, what’s the plan?”

“Keep your distance until I give you the all clear” Steve says, “I’m going street side to see if I can hear anything.”

Steve jumps into the alleyway. He can feel Superman watching him as he creeps across the street. He peeks into a window, searching for movement amongst the shadows, but sees nothing. A scream pierces the night. It’s coming from the basement. A red and blue blur whips past Steve.

“Superman, wait!” Steve shouts, but Superman is already gone. The screaming abruptly cut off, replaced by a series of crashes. Steve runs. Its complete chaos as a half dozen Neo-Nazis, clearly not expecting Superman to crash their meeting, scatter like rats. One of them is bleeding heavily from the head and Steve doubts it was caused by Superman. Only one Neo –Nazi doesn’t run, He pulls something from his pocket, a lead box. He flicks it open and Steve seems the familiar glow of green. Superman freezes. Steve throws his shield. The kryptonite skitters across the floor. Steve and the other man dive for it. He misses and the other man grunts in satisfaction, until Steve brings his shield down on the man’s wrist. It snaps and the kryptonite falls from his hand. Steve scoops it up and grabs the lead box. Kryptonite safely put away, Steve and Superman make short work of the rest of the Neo-Nazis.

“Not bad.” Steve says surveying the room where the Neo-Nazis are either tied up, Superman’s work, or unconscious, his work.

“Thank you, for handling the kryptonite for me.” Superman says.

“Not a problem. You should flag down an officer. I want to have a look around.” Steve says. Superman flies off. Steve wanders over to the man who is still bleeding from the head and nudges him with his foot.

“What happened to you?”

The man glares balefully at him and spits at him. Steve rolls his eyes and keeps walking. In the middle of the room, tipped over, is a table. Money and papers are scattered everywhere. Steve picks up a ledger and scans the numbers. They’ve certainly been busy.

“Let me take a wild guess,” Steve says to the man still bleeding, “you were fudging the numbers and your buddies didn’t appreciate that, did they?”

The man doesn’t respond, but his gaze turns fearful as he glances at the others.

“Can’t trust a Nazi, who knew?” Steve grunts sarcastically. He flips through the pages. Money coming in, money getting split between them, and the extra money going out. Steve frowns. A second cell? The ledger doesn’t tell him. He sets it down and begins picking up papers and skimming them for answers. Footsteps above tell him that officers have arrived. They give Steve curious looks as they troop in, not sure what to make of them.

“Evening Officers.” Steve greets. They see them glance at Superman as if looking for his approval before engaging with Steve. When Superman doesn’t appear to be concerned the officers relax and settle for ignoring Steve as they go about their work. It’s odd. Steve is used to being ignored as Steve Rogers, but he’s never been ignored as Captain America. Even during the worst of it, when he was hated by every guard around him, his presence still elicited some strong reaction. He’s finding this all to be very novel. He stands back and lets the officers do their job as Superman fills them in.

Steve starts edging for the door; Superman can handle it from here. As he passes the man who had taken out the kryptonite Steve sees a piece of paper in his hands tied behind his back. A piece of paper he is slowly trying to shred without anyone noticing. The cops aren’t paying attention and neither is Superman. Steve leans down and grabs the man’s wrist. He feels the man’s pulse jump at the sudden contact. He pulls the paper from the man’s grasp. The number and beginning of the street name is missing, but Steve can make out _Canal St. Gotham._ Steve casually drops the paper on the table where’s sure police will see it and heads out. The police will follow whatever leads they see fit, but Steve knows where he’s going next.

Unfortunately, it turns out Steve cannot immediately go to Gotham. The constraints of a normal job and the necessity of a paycheck are things he’s unused to in his working career. Still, it’s nice to know that he will be putting his first paycheck to good use. For now Steve walks to the Daily Planet, stopping to grab the morning paper on the way in. A blurry picture of himself mid throw greets him. The headline reads _New Hero in Town? The Captain Saves Superman and the Day._ Steve reads the article at his desk. Personally he finds it a bit overdramatic. He flips to the next page to read Clark’s article on the Neo-Nazi bust. He finds several quotes from Superman. Clark must have shown up right after he left. It was a good thing he didn’t stick around.

Steve wanders over to Clark’s desk.

“Just read your article. Good job.” Steve says.

“Thanks, it would have been better, but half the story disappeared before I could get an interview.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asks innocently.

“The Captain. He showed up last night,” Clark says, “The guy comes out of nowhere and twice in twenty four saves Superman’s life, once right in front of The Daily Planet and nobody has gotten an interview yet.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to be interviewed.” Steve shrugs, leaning casually against Clark’s desk.

“Then he better stay away from Lois. She doesn’t take no for an answer.”

“I’m sure he’ll give all reporters a wide berth. You’re all ruthless,” Steve chuckles. Clark grins but doesn’t deny it.

“So do police have any more follow up to do on your Nazi story?” Steve asks. Clark scowls.

“They found a lead that goes straight to Gotham.”

“You look pretty annoyed by that.” Steve observes.

“Gotham’s a mess. They’re overworked as it is. Nobody over there is going to follow up on the lead and there’s nothing the Metropolis police can do about it because it’s out of their jurisdiction.”

“Maybe Batman will take care of it,” Steve says.

“I think Batman has his hands full with all the other crime going on in Gotham. Who knows if he’s even aware of the lead.” Clark shakes his head. Perry comes out of his office and Steve hurries back to his own desk. He taps his pencil against his art book. So the police in Gotham will be no help. It looks like he’ll have to track down Batman after all. Steve just hopes he’s easier to find than Daredevil.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve takes a trip to Gotham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun with this chapter. Enjoy!

Steve knows that every mission there’s a period of time where there’s nothing more that can be done except wait. Wait for details from the front lines, wait for the enemy to make their next move, wait for reinforcements. Steve has never been very good with these periods. It was Bucky who sat with him in the old days, keeping up a running commentary of camp gossip as they played cards and bartered their cigarettes away for extra rations of chocolate. In more recent times it was Sam or occasionally Natasha who would distract him by catching him up on pop culture he had missed or trying to set him up on increasingly outlandish dates. Now though, he has nobody. He had briefly considered seeking out Superman, but had just as quickly dismissed it. Superman is great, but he isn’t a teammate. He only knows The Captain and not Steve Rogers.

“Steve? You ok?”

Steve looks up to see Clark looking at him with concern. Steve sets down his pencil, which he realizes he was seconds away from snapping and grins.

“Sorry, lost in thought.” 

“Want to talk about it?”

Steve shakes his head, “No it’s nothing. Just looking forward for the weekend is all.”

Steve glances at the clock, only a few more hours. Clark looks like he wants to say more but stops frowning.

“I…um…I have to go. Just thought of something for my next article.” He mumbles hurrying out and tugging at his tie. Jimmy is convinced it’s a girl, but every time Steve has seen Clark leave it’s always with a look of worry. Lois thinks Clark has convinced someone to be a snitch for him. Steve’s not so sure about that theory either. He should talk to Clark though about it, he’d hate to see him get in over his head. But that’s a mystery for another day. Clark returns just before the day is over, looking satisfied.

The clock strikes five and Steve is the first one out the door. He doesn’t bother stopping at Jimmy’s apartment, instead heading straight to the train station. He books the last evening train to Gotham and finds an empty seat near the rear of the train. He plays with his portfolio bag, feeling the rim of his shield just beneath the canvas.

He has a few hours before he reaches his destination; Steve begins planning his hunt for Batman. Not for the first time he misses the ease of internet access and smartphones of the twenty first century. Instead he’s left with a notebook filled with everything he was able to find out about Batman. It’s sparse and most of it comes from Jimmy, but Jimmy has been right about Superman so Steve is willing to trust his judgment now too. He flips to his first list titled “Known facts about Batman” and reads through the list again.

  * Expert in several forms of martial arts.
  * Never takes off his mask and rarely speaks.
  * Witnesses report several gadgets and advanced pieces of technology.



It’s a very short list. Criminals rarely see what hit them and the people he saves can only give the vaguest of details. The martial arts and the technology are the two constants he can see. He flips to the second list titled “Theories and speculations.”

  * Possibly a modern day super soldier?
  * Independently wealthy or has a rich benefactor to afford his gear?
  * Possibly part bat?



The last one is a bit out there but Steve fought on a team that consisted of a Norse God and a green abomination that was also a brilliant scientist, so he’s not ruling anything out. However, he finds himself leaning more towards his first two theories. America is at war again and he wouldn’t put it past the government to have another go at making another super soldier, although that wouldn’t explain what he was doing in Gotham and not with the military. He has to be rich though, or at least know someone who is funding him. Steve hung around Tony enough to know that spare parts for gadgets and super suits don’t come cheap.

Steve doodles a picture of batman in the corner of the page. The train pulls into Gotham station and Steve grabs his bag and heads out. Privately, he is a little excited to see this world’s version of his home city. The train station is worn down and covered in a thick layer of grime, nothing like the Metropolis train station had been like. Steve walks down city streets lined with buildings that had seen better days. Gotham reminds him more of the Brooklyn of his youth than his modern day New York City. Steve heads straight to the seediest part of the city where Batman is most often reported. Then, Steve throws his shield. It clangs off several fire escapes and buildings before returning to him. Steve has a hunch that Batman is far more territorial than Superman. Steve casually throws it again, trying to bounce it off the things that will make the most noise as he bounces from rooftop to rooftop.

A figure seems to melt out of the shadows. Steve stows his shield on his back.

“Batman.” He says. He sizes up the man in front of him and suspects that Batman is doing the same.

“Captain.” Batman’s voice is gruff and low.

“You read the Metropolis newspapers?” Steve asks. He’s only been in the papers twice. He hardly thinks that warrants enough clout to gain a reputation around here.

“I do when the stories are concerning someone saving Superman.” Batman says bluntly and narrows his eyes, “Now what are you doing here?”

“I’m following up on a lead from Metropolis.” Steve says, “It seemed only polite that I invite you along. This is your city.”

“What’s the situation?”

“Superman and I busted a Nazi cell in Metropolis. I found a Gotham address and I think they might have been shipping some of the stolen cash out to a sister cell in Gotham.”

“Give me the lead and I’ll take care of it.” Batman says, but Steve shakes his head.

“Sorry, not that I doubt your abilities, but I want to see this through to the end.” Steve says. Batman glares.

“I’m not like Superman. I don’t do team ups.”

“Fine, then I’ll handle it myself.” Steve says, “Sorry to bother you.”

He turns to leave and feels Batman’s eyes following him as he strolls away. Steve flips over the side of the building and into the alleyway. If he hurries, he’ll be able to make it to Canal Street before midnight. Batman lands with a hard thump in front of him, blocking his way.

“Excuse me, but I’m a in a bit of a hurry,” Steve says, but his hand inches towards his shield.

“I also don’t let people run around pretending to be heroes in my city. Gotham isn’t like Metropolis. You’ll get yourself killed.” Batman says.

“I appreciate your concern, but I promise I’ll be fine.” Steve says, and then adds, “Believe me, I’ve been fighting Nazis for a _very_ long time.”

Batman doesn’t move.

“I really don’t want to have to fight you,” Steve says, “but I’m not going to let you stop me.”

Batman darts forward. Steve blocks with the shield. The hit wasn’t strong, more of a tap. Batman is testing him and Steve is happy to oblige. Steve throws his shield just past Batman’s head and follows up with slow punch that he knows Batman will side step. Placing him directly in the path of Steve’s returning shield. The shield lands a solid blow to Batman’s shoulder. He grunts but a brief look of satisfaction crosses his face. Batman throws a punch that forces Steve on his back heels to avoid. Steve gives a low leg sweep and Batman jumps. Steve speeds up and Batman matches him blow for blow. He’s good, clearly an expert. Steve would have loved to see Batman go one on one with Natasha.

“So, am I passing your test?” Steve asks, dodging another blow.

“You’re doing better than expected.” Batman grunts.

“I’ll take that as high praise,” Steve says. He flips Batman who lands on his feet and aims a kick to Steve’s knee. Steve blocks.

“Not that I wouldn’t love to continue sparring,” Steve says, “But I don’t have time for this tonight. Nazi cells don't bust itself.”

He pins Batman to the wall.

“Fine, you can come with me.” Batman says shortly. Steve lets him go.

“How magnanimous of you.”

Working with Batman is not like working with Superman. Teaming up with Superman felt like, well, a team up, two people working side by side for a common goal. Teaming up with Batman feels like teaming up with a disgruntled shadow that would prefer Steve to leave and never come back.

Steve leaps across rooftops and Batman, while keeping to the shadows, matches every step. Every once in a while Steve will catch a glimpse of a cape before it disappears seamlessly into darkness. Steve stops on the roof of an old factory, indistinguishable from the many other abandoned factories and warehouses that overflowed from this section of Gotham.

“This is the place,” Steve says to the shadow he last saw Batman disappear into, “We need a plan."

“I have a plan.” The shadow rumbles. Steve waits for Batman to elaborate. He doesn’t.

“Are you going to share that plan?” Steve asks.

“No.” Batman says. He jumps off the roof; a grappling hook carries him through a window and into the building. Steve sighs and throws himself through the shattered window shield first. They’re alone in a room piled high with boxes. Steve flips open the top of one. Guns, lots of guns. New guns, but a healthy smattering of antique guns that wouldn’t have been out of place during the war. Batman ignores the boxes and heads to a small room off the main floor that looks like an office. As Steve flips through more boxes, most containing weapons and some with cash, Batman picks the lock. He disappears inside while Steve keeps watch.

“Captain,” Batman says after a few minutes, his voice echoing.

“What’s wrong?”

“How many Neo-Nazis were arrested in Metropolis?” He asks, not looking up from his papers.

“Six, why?”

“Then it looks like you missed some.” Batman says.

“How much is some?” Steve asks from the doorway. Batman flips through the pages.

“Dozens, in both cities,” Batman says, “They’re shipping weapons out of Gotham and into Metropolis, then the money they make on the robberies they are sending back here to launder.”

Steve’s jaw clenches. So many Nazis hiding in plain sight uncomfortably reminds him of how well Hydra was able to hide and thrive amongst shield.

“Do we have any names?”

“Not at the moment.”

A door slams shut. Steve tightens his grip on his shield.

“That’s fine,” he whispers, “We’ll just ask our hosts.”

Steve is silent as he creeps along the edges of the room. The men who enter are young, with shaved heads and leather jackets. They’re kids really. Kids who have never seen war, who have never held a buddy while the light disappeared from their eyes, who don’t know the meaning of the phrase _war is hell_. These kids get their thrills scaring people and think that makes them tough. Steve is happy to dissuade them from that false delusion.

Steve throws his shield. These kids don’t know what hit them. They’ve never had a history class warning them not to get in the way of Captain America’s shield. They’ve never seen old news reels showing just how much damage a vibramium shield thrown at 105 miles per hour can do. These kids expected Batman at the worst; instead they got a super soldier with a decades long grudge against Nazis.

Steve is tying up the last man when Batman comes out of the office. He surveys Steve’s work.

“Not bad,” He says. Steve inclines his head in thanks.

“Did you find out more about the other cells?

“Yes, I can handle what’s in Gotham if you and Superman want to tackle the ones in Metropolis. It looks like a cell or two has started recruiting in Central City, but I have a contact there that will make short work of them.” Batman says.

“Thank you.” Steve says holding out his hand. Batman stares at it distrustfully before taking it and giving a brisk shake. He lets go quickly as if he expected Steve to try to hang on.

“Hopefully we can do this again.”

“I doubt it.” Batman says.

Steve catches the Saturday morning train back to Gotham. In his notebook is a list of names and addresses that Batman was able to pull from the files in the office. Steve flips back to his two lists. To the one titled “Known facts about Batman” he adds:

  * Prefers working alone
  * Intelligent
  * Stealthy
  * Eccentric



Satisfied with his additions he flips to the list titled “Theories and Speculations” and crosses out “part bat” and “modern day super soldier.” He keeps wealthy though. Grappling hooks are not something bought at the local convenience store and from what Steve could tell of the suit it was high grade ultra-light Kevlar, similar to Steve’s own.

He steps off the train back onto the clean streets of Metropolis, so different than the dirty streets of Gotham. He’s making a good life for himself here. He has no plans to uproot himself, but he has to admit there was something nostalgic about Gotham’s rundown buildings. He could have been happy there.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Superman and Captain America have a good old fashioned Nazi hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Struggled a bit with this chapter, but I'm pleased with how Lois came out. Please enjoy and thanks to everyone who liked or commented on this story!

“Steve, you’re back early.” Jimmy says when Steve steps into the apartment, “I thought you’d be gone all weekend.”

“Sorry, my errand went faster than I thought it would.”

“That’s good. Lois and Clark just invited me to lunch. They want to go over some pictures of mine to accompany their article on the trial for the Neo-Nazis Superman caught. Come on.” Jimmy says. Steve would prefer to go over the names on the list, perhaps do some reconnaissance on some of the addresses, but Jimmy looks so hopeful and he’s been so kind to Steve… Steve tucks the notebook back into his pocket.

“Sure. Lead the way.” Steve says.

Clark and Lois are already there with notebooks and coffee when Jimmy and Steve get there. Lois is frowning as she writes and Clark waves them over with a smile.

“Jimmy, let me see your pictures.” Lois says before tacking on a greeting at the end. She flicks through them while Clark leans over her shoulder.

“What do you think of them?” Jimmy asks.

“They look good,” Clark says as Lois huffs. Jimmy frowns.

“You don’t like them?”

“It’s not the pictures. It’s the article; it’s missing its edge.” She says.

“A couple of bad people are going to jail,” Clark says, “This is a happy story, it doesn’t need an edge.”

“Every story needs an edge.” Lois says. She downs her cup of coffee and flags down a waitress to order another one.

“Well, I’m not a reporter,” Steve says, “but I did pick up a morning paper before I left Gotham and it looks like last night Batman busted up his own Nazi cell. And there’s a strong possibility that it’s connected to the one in Metropolis. Is that enough of an edge?”

“Steve that’s brilliant. I need to call the Gotham police and get a statement.” She says standing up. She throws some money on the table, “and witnesses, I’ll need to talk to them too.”

Clark also stands, “I better make sure she doesn’t bother the Gotham police too much. I don’t think they’re used to Lois’s Lois-ness the way the Metropolis police are.”

“Clark wait,” Steve says, “You know how to get in contact with Superman right?”

“Yeah, why?” Clark plays with his glasses.

“I heard that there may be more cells, possibly even in Metropolis. He might want to look into it.” Steve says. Clark nods, “I’ll let him know.”

That night Steve paces along the rooftops, searching the skyline for a hint of the red cape. The list is burning in his pocket, begging Steve to get to work, but Steve had really hoped to have Superman’s backup on this. He doesn’t need Superman’s help, but being part of a team, even a small team of two, felt nice. He really works best when part of a team.

“Evening Captain. You look like you’re waiting for someone.” Superman hovers next to the building, just a few inches away from the ledge.

“Superman,” Steve greets, “I was hoping you’d show up.”

“Oh?” Superman steps onto the ledge next to Steve.

“I had a very productive night in Gotham yesterday,” Steve says, “But it turns out we missed a few Nazis here.”

“Gotham? Did you take down Gotham’s Neo-Nazi cell?”

“I did.” Steve confirms, “Going after Nazis is kind of a habit. But since we worked so well together last time I wanted to know if you wanted in on taking down the rest of the Nazis.”

Steve pulls out his list and hands it to him.

“Where did you get this?”

“Batman gave it to me.”

Superman looks up, “You actually met Batman? What’s he like?”

Steve thinks for a second before answering, “He’s eccentric, but smart. I don’t think he’ll be inviting me back to Gotham anytime soon though.”

“That’ ok, you’re work is more than appreciated here,” Superman says sincerely. Steve beams as he reads the first name on the list _Michael Fanwell._ Batman has even been kind enough to add a few possible locations in sharp neat handwriting.

The first address lead to an empty storefront that looks like it’s been out of business for years. Steve would jimmy the lock so they could take a look around but Superman beats him there and instead pushes the door down with a casual flick of his wrist. Inside there are a few folding chairs and a table. No papers though and a fine layer of dust tells Steve that nobody has used the building since the first cell got busted. They don’t stay long, heading to the next address on the list.

The next address is a very nice house in a well to-do neighborhood on the outskirts of the city. The lawn looks freshly mowed and inside lights are shining. Steve lets Superman ring the doorbell, while he hangs back by the white picket fence. He feels a bit like Batman, cloaked in shadows and watching from the distance. An older woman who barely comes up to Superman’s chest opens the door and makes a surprised noise. Steve supposes that even in Metropolis it’s not every day that Superman knocks on your door.

“Superman! Is everything alright?” She peers around him as if expecting to see chaos and villainy on her quiet street.

“Everything’s fine Ma’am,” Superman says easily, “I’m just helping the police with an investigation and I need to speak to Michael Fanwell. Is he here?”

“Mike? Yes, but he’s not in any trouble is he?” Her hands flutter to her chest.

“I just want to speak to him.” Superman says. He dodges the question with a firm politeness and the woman nods. She retreats from the doorway. Superman stands illuminated by the porch light his cape fluttering in the breeze. Steve can easily imagine him standing amongst the Avengers, ready to save the day from world ending threats. Nat would tease him for being a boy scout and Thor would be thrilled to have someone his equal to spar with. But those thoughts lead him down the memory path of the infighting and the Accords. Would Superman have signed? The woman returns with a scowling young man, cutting off Steve’s train of thought.

He looks to be her son. Steve sighs. Another kid who thought war was a game. Superman wraps an arm around Michael’s shoulders and guides him away from the porch. His mother hovers by the door for a few moments, but under Superman’s reassuring smile she shuts it and goes back inside. Steve stalks across the ground and stands shoulder to shoulder with Superman.

“So what have you been up to recently Michael?” Superman asks. Fanwell shrugs.

“Answer the question,” Steve says tightly.

“Just hanging out with friends.” He says quietly. He has the sullen scowl of a teenager forced to come out of his bedroom and make nice with company but he refuses to meet their eyes as sweat drips from his brow.

“Would hanging out with friends include going to Nazi meet ups?” Steve asks. Fanwell’s eyes flicker to their faces. There’s fear in them, but he masks it with a disdainful glare.

“What do you guys care? It’s not hurting you.”

Steve feels a fire light deep in the pit of his belly. Not hurting him? Nazis hurt everyone. Nazis had killed, maimed, and traumatized millions. Nazis had stolen Bucky’s memories and turned him into a machine, a weapon, to be used and discarded. Nazis had built the bombs that had forced Steve to make a choice that would steal 70 years away from him. This kid didn’t know the first thing about Nazis if he thought they weren’t hurting anyone.

Superman sensing the tension ready to snap inside Steve takes the lead.

“It doesn’t matter. People are getting hurt and someone might get killed.” He says, “And The Captain and I are going to stop it. So start giving out names.”

Fanwell is a criminal used to scared bank tellers and little old ladies at ATMs, he’s never been in a firefight before, never faced down death and spit in its eye. He crumples easily under the combined pressure of Captain America and Superman. He gives more names, locations, and times meetings are scheduled. Steve carefully adds each one to his list.

They leave Fanwell pale and shaking on his front porch. He isn’t going to run and in a few hours when the police arrive to pick him up he’ll still be there, pale and shaking. Steve and Superman easily work their way through the list, most are young guys who cave immediately at the realization that they’ve caught the attention of Superman. A few of them are older, more deeply entrenched in their ideology. They shout their arguments at Steve and Superman as if they have any hope of convincing either of them of their abhorrent point of view. Steve is forcibly reminded of the German rallies he saw on news in the years just before the war. He wants to shake the raving man in front of him and shout at him, _Can’t you see? This path only leads to death and destruction._ But he doesn’t. He lets Superman tie them up and alert the police.

The sky is beginning to turn purple and pink. Soon the sun will bloom over the city, rousing its citizens up for another busy day. There are still too many names left on Steve’s list but he’s tired and even Superman is forcing back yawns.

“Meet tomorrow night to finish the list?” Steve asks. Superman nods. They part ways, Steve back to Jimmy’s apartment and Superman back to whatever life he leads when he’s not wearing a cape. As Steve crawls under the spare blankets on Jimmy’s couch he’s exhausted, but proud. The city is just a little bit safer because of the work he did last night. He hasn’t felt this content in a while.

It’s that stubborn belief that he’s doing the right thing that he clings to as his alarm rouses him three hours later. He takes a cold shower that does little to wake him up and pours himself an extra-large cup of coffee. He already knows from the experience that the caffeine won’t do anything for him, but the familiarity of the bitterness on his tongue makes him think of base camp with the howling commandoes and Bucky. All exhausted, but all righteous in their mission to wipe out Hydra and the Nazis and personally deliver Hitler to the gates of hell.

“Steve. Steve.” Jimmy waves a hand in front of his face, “Earth to Steve.”

Steve blinks, “Sorry Jimmy, late night.”

“Good for you,” Jimmy says clapping him on the back. 

When Steve finally makes it to the office, after stopping for another black coffee, He’s pleased to see he’s not the only one who had a late night. Clark sits at his desk, head firmly resting in his hand not even bothering to pretend to listen to Lois. Lois on the other hand must have had an excellent night’s sleep as she is even more energetic than usual.

Steve feels a tug of heroism that forces him to his feet. He needs to save Clark from Lois’s wrath when she realizes he hasn’t paid attention to anything she’s said for the last ten minutes.

“Morning Lois,” Steve says, “You seem excited.”

“I just got off the phone with my contact in Gotham.” She says, “two more cells busted. By Batman. Someone even snapped a picture of him just after the second raid. And additionally I got an email from the commissioner of Metropolis police, apparently Superman was seen teaming up with the Captain to help make several more arrests. This story is blowing up beautifully. From a story about bank robbers to a whole network of Neo-Nazis living under our noses and now being dismantled right before our eyes.”

Steve nods along, pleased that Batman is taking this as seriously as he and Superman are.

“Well, I’m glad you’re story found its edge.”

“Yes, now if I can just track down The Captain. It would be perfect.”

Steve freezes, mug of coffee halfway to his lips. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Clark sit up.

“Why do you need to interview the Captain, you have an in with Superman.”

“I already took my statement from Superman, there’s no story there. Everyone knows why Superman is stopping Neo-Nazis; he’s Superman. He stands for truth, justice, and the American way. No, the mystery is who is the Captain and why is he spending his nights tracking down Neo-Nazis.”

Steve shrugs, “Concerned citizen? I don’t think there needs to be a deep reason to oppose Nazis.”

“Well of course not, but not everybody chooses to oppose Neo-Nazis by putting on a mask and running all throughout the night. And what is up with his shield?”

“What’s wrong with his shield?” Steve asks defensively.

“I saw him throw it; it does not obey the laws of physics. What is it even made out of? And where did he get it? And why use a shield? It’s a bit of an archaic weapon, don’t you think?”

“That…is a lot of questions you have for The Captain.” Steve says.

“Of course it’s a lot of questions, nobody knows anything about him.”

Steve sets his coffee down and leans against his desk, “maybe The Captain doesn’t want anyone to know about him. Maybe he’s just a regular guy trying to make his city safe.”

“By fighting crime under the cover of night?” Lois’s face is the picture of skepticism.

“I’m sure Superman is doing most of the heavy lifting,” Steve says. Lois is like a pitbull and he would prefer not to have her on his trail. He likes his life here. He doesn’t want Captain America to jeopardize it.

“Not according to Superman,” Clark speaks up, “He’s really impressed by the Captain.”

Steve’s jaw clenches, but he forces a smile, “I’m sure he’s just being polite. I really don’t think there’s an interesting story behind The Captain. Mark my words; he’s going to turn out being just an average guy with nothing special about him at all.”

The last sentence stings with the truth that Steve has never been able to escape. He’s not special. It was luck that led him to cross paths with the good doctor and his serum. He’s just a normal kid from Brooklyn who wanted to do his part to make the world a better place. That’s all he’s ever wanted to be.

“Well, I disagree.” Lois says.

“And so does Superman.” Clark adds.

“And you can read all about what a fascinating person The Captain is when I finally get my interview.” Lois says, strutting off argument won. Steve finishes his coffee with a small smile that he keeps for the rest of the day.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuing adventures of Clark and Steve.

Steve waits for Superman on the same roof top as the night before. He goes over his list, now messy with cross outs and notations. A soft thump behind him tells him that Superman has arrived.

“You’re late.” Steve says.

“Sorry, Volcano erupted in Hawaii.”

Steve accepts his excuse with a nod and hands Superman the list, “Ready to finish this?”

They race across the night sky to their first destination. The mansion they stop at is rundown, a shadow of itself with only remnants left of what it once was. The light bulb on the front porch flickers, fighting a battle to not go out. _Ellen and Samuel_. 

Superman knocks on the door. A man with graying hair answers. He’s old, old enough to remember the war, if not fight in it himself. One look at Superman and Samuel shouts for Ellen to run. Then he turns to face Superman like he has a hope of holding him off. His punch bounces off Superman’s chest who doesn’t attempt to block it.

Steve hears movement inside and runs past Superman and Samuel, confident that Superman can handle the threat. Ellen is as old as Sam, if not older. She would have read about the war, she would have watched family members and friends get their draft letters and ship out. She probably lost people in the war. Everybody did. Steve feels a rush of fury. These people aren’t Neo-Nazis, they ‘re the original thing, doing their part to corrupt another generation.

Ellen doesn’t head for the backdoor like Steve expects, instead rummaging around her cabinet for something. She pulls out a clunky handgun that looks too big for her small wrinkled hands. She aims it and Steve raises his shield. Superman steps into the kitchen, dragging her husband in by the arm like a sullen child. Ellen moves the gun from Steve to Superman. That’s when Steve sees it. A faint glow of green coming from the chamber of the gun. It must be lined with lead as Superman doesn’t seem to feel the kryptonite as he begins his lecture. But he’ll definitely feel a kryptonite bullet lodged in his chest.

She fires. Steve throws his shield. There’s a clang as kryptonite hits vibranium. The bullet bounces to the floor as the shield bounces of the wall and returns to Steve’s waiting hand. Steve’s at her side, ripping the gun away before her shaking hands can fire a second shot.

“Thanks for that,” Superman says, giving the bullet a wide berth. Steve turns the gun over in his hand. It’s a Lugar Pistol, common among German officers during the war, but modified to fit the larger kryptonite bullets. Inside the chamber, Steve finds five more glowing green bullets.

“Where did you get this gun?” Steve asks. She glares at him as hatefully as any captured hydra agent did during the war. Steve is sure that if she had a cyanide capsule she would have bitten it by now. Steve knows he won’t be getting anything out of her tonight. He scoops up the fallen bullet and sticks it in a pocket that he lined with a thin sheet of lead the day he found out that lead blocks kryptonite’s effects.

“I’ll take these two directly to the police.” Superman says.

“I’ll check the house for any more of these,” Steve says holding up the gun.

Superman moves so fast that Steve doesn’t see him fly off, only feels the ruffle of breeze through his hair. Methodically Steve searches for the house. He finds a second gun packed with kryptonite bullets in Samuel’s bedside drawer. Steve empties out the bullets and examines the gun. The modifications are new, but the gun itself is old. It probably saw action during the war. This could be a good lead, he doubts there are many of these still floating around.

A breeze tickles the back of his neck.

“How did it go?” Steve asks without looking up from the gun.

“No problems and the police are happy for the help.” Superman says, “You found a second one?”

“Just the two.” Steve says, “but they’re original Lugers. This could be a good lead.”

“I’ll talk to Clark about it. He’s got contacts that might be able to trace it.” Superman says, “How do you know it’s an original?”

“It’s a P08 Luger. They stopped making those just after the war. It’s solid, guns now days don’t have the same heft to them.”

“The war?” Superman asks.

“World War Two. This was a popular gun for Germans during that time. Makes sense, they’ve coopted their beliefs, they might as well coopt their aesthetic too.”

“You seem to know your history.” Superman says casually, but Steve can feel how closely he’s being watched.

“I take a special interest in World War Two.” Steve says and leaves it at that. He stands up.

“Come on, that list isn’t going to finish itself.” Steve says.

The next several places they raid are easy. No kryptonite guns, nobody even putting up a fight. Most people make the smart choice and surrender as soon as they see Superman at their door. Most barely spare Steve a second look, if they notice him at all. The web they are unraveling in intricate and entangling. Each cell worked completely separately from each other, save for the occasional exchange of weapons and the transport of money. That was how German spies worked in America during the war, it made them harder to track. One cell going down didn’t mean the death of all the other cells, provided the captured cell kept their mouths closed. Thankfully, keeping ones mouth shut was the last thing on these peoples mind with Superman bearing down on them. Still, the similarities are concerning. This is far too organized for just a bunch of angry racists looking for an easy outlet.

“Last house on this list.” Steve says.

“Good timing,” Superman says as rosy pink begins to streak across the sky.

A man sits on his front porch, sipping his coffee and watching the sun beginning to peak over the city skyline. At first Steve thinks they might have the wrong address with how calmly the man watches their approach.

“Fredrick Hanson?” Superman asks.

“Yeah, that’s me.” Hanson says draining the last of his coffee, “I assume you’re here to arrest me.”

“Yes, we are.” Superman says. He’s tense, so is Steve. Both are waiting for a trap to be sprung. Hanson is too easy going.

“I was hoping to see one more sunrise, but I suppose it doesn’t really matter.” Hanson says. He stands up and stretches. He makes no move to reach for a weapon and from what Steve can see, he’s not even carrying a weapon.

“I packed my kids lunches this morning,” Hanson rambles on in a friendly manner, “glad I got that done before you came. Did some repairs on the house too, don’t want the Missus putting herself out.”

“I’m sorry, but we’re here to arrest you for joining a Neo-Nazi organization and engaging in robberies and money laundry. You do understand that, right?” Superman asks, uncertainly.

“I know what I did,” Hanson says, “But you’re wrong. You’re arresting me because I’m a true patriot who did what others were afraid to do.”

“Excuse me?” Steve asks.

Hanson looks him up and down, taking in the star on his chest with a sneer.

“You heard me. I’m trying to save America from the corruption and the gangs and the wrong sorts of people.” Hanson says, “I’m sticking up for the _real_ Americans who actually deserve to be here.”

Steve feels his face flush and suddenly he’s back in Brooklyn in the thirties arguing with the American Bund members that he’s not just a Mick, he’s a real American who deserves to be there just as much as they do.

Steve’s fist wraps around the front of Hanson’s shirt and he tugs him in close.

“The Nazis didn’t give a damn about saving America and they didn’t know a thing about what it meant to be an American.” Steve seethes, each word coming out harsher than the last, “and there’s a lot of Americans dead because of the Nazis.”

His mind flashes to Bucky falling off the train, screaming until he disappeared from view, and then to Bucky after the Winter Soldier, quiet and withdrawn with a spark of fear in his eyes that never fully leaves no matter what Steve says.

“America shouldn’t have fought them,” Hanson says, “They had some good ideas.”

Steve slams Hanson against his front door and Hanson gives a small gasp as his eyes flicker to Superman. Everyone knows Superman is a good guy, but the Captain is an unknown. A shadow of fear falls across Hanson’s face. Superman doesn’t intervene. 

“Good ideas?” Steve snarls, “Like experimenting on prisoners of war? Or torturing them just for kicks? For industrializing the mass murder of civilians? Children even? Those sound like good ideas to you? Because they sound like war crimes to me.”

Hanson tries to pull away. Steve’s grip doesn’t waver.

“The allies committed war crimes too,” Hanson says desperately. He struggles harder.

“Not like them. We were nothing like them.” Steve says.

“And how would you know? You weren’t there.” Hanson snaps, “Quit buying in to the American propaganda about the alleged Greatest Generation.”

Steve laughs bitterly and thinks of Gabe Jones who was in a segregated unit until he joined the Howling Commandoes and of Jim Morita whose family languished in a Japanese internment camp while he put his life on the line for a country that treated him pitifully.

“We weren’t the greatest generation, but we were still better than the Nazis.”

Hanson’s shaking his head and Steve feels his anger bubbling over. This man understood nothing.

“Captain.” Superman has his hand on Steve’s shoulder. Its firm and grounding, “I’ll take him from here.”

For a second Steve isn’t sure he’s willing to let Hanson go. Hanson must see it in his eyes because his struggle becomes more panicked and a low whimper comes from the back of his throat. Superman’s hand tightens ever so slightly on Steve’s shoulder. Steve lets go, stepping back and letting Hanson crumple against the side of his house.

Steve’s hands are shaking as he watches Superman carry Hanson away. He’s never been one for smoking, but he finds himself longing to light one like they all used to after a particularly vicious battle.. Decades later and in a whole new universe and he’s still fighting the same evil.

Superman lands ten minutes later.

“So, want to talk about what happened back there?” he asks. The sun has risen and Steve will need to be at work in a few hours.

“Not particularly.”

Steve is familiar with these types of conversations, though usually he’s on the other side of them. Patiently coaxing Bucky, or Natasha, or whoever needs it to open up to him. He hates being on this side of it.

“Come on, what happened? You almost lost control. I thought you were going to hurt that guy back there.” Superman says.

“I got mad. I don’t think that’s particularly shocking given the nonsense he was spouting off.” Steve shrugs.

“You said “we” when you were talking about the soldiers during the war. Did you…lose someone in World War 2?” Superman asks.

“Yeah, I did.” Steve says honestly. Superman probably assumes he lost a grandfather or maybe an uncle in the war. Someone he never met but would have heard stories growing up about. Steve lets Superman keep his assumptions.

“Is that why you do this?” Superman asks.

“I don’t like bullies,” Steve says, “I don’t care where they’re from.”

Steve should go; he has a full day of work ahead of him. He doesn’t feel ready to leave the comfort of the porch though.

“You’re an interesting person.” Superman says as they watch the sun creep higher into the sky.

“Not really. I like to think a lot of people dislike bullies and Nazis.” Steve says.

“You stopped a bullet by throwing your shield. You’re different.”

Steve shrugs, “I’m _mostly_ just a normal guy. I can throw a shield but I can’t fly or outrun a train.”

“You still saved my life,” Superman says sincerely, “Thank you for that. And you’re doing a lot of good for society. The public is starting to get curious about you.”

Steve chuckles, “I’m really not that interesting. I’m just a guy who really doesn’t like Nazis.”

“And has a magic shield.” Superman adds.

“It’s not magic,” Steve says patting his shield fondly. He wishes he could show Superman Thor’s hammer so he could see what a real magic weapon looks like.

“Now if you excuse me, I have a very normal day job that I need to get to.” He bounds off before Superman can ask about his day job. Steve has nothing against the public or the media in general. He often interacted with both back home, but things are different here. People will ask questions that he can’t easily answer, questions about where he came from and why he left. Metropolis is his second chance and he’s not going to let Captain America stand in the way of Steve Rogers. Besides it’s nice letting someone else handle PR while he fades mysteriously into the background. Natasha would be proud if she could see him now.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Metropolis gets an unusual nighttime visitor. Steve has some fun with it.

The next few days are quiet. There are no more names on the list and Steve actually gets a full nights rest. There’s nothing left to do but investigate the lead on the Luger pistols. Superman must have made good on his promise to mention them to Clark because only a few days later Steve sees Clark with a book on German weaponry of the 20th century.

Steve reads the title with a grin.

“The Greatest Weapons of the Greatest Generation?” Steve asks.

“I’m looking into something for Superman,” Clark says, “but you’re military, do you know much about Lugar Pistols?”

“Only that they went out of style decades ago and were never used by the American military,” Steve says, “if you’re looking for one you probably want to search for collectors not military personnel.”

“Collectors or museums,” Lois says, “My grandpa was in the war. He used to drag us all over the place to museums with collections from the war.”

“Museum curators might even know local collectors.” Steve adds.

“Good, I’ll make a few calls, see what I can find.

Steve and Jimmy help Clark spend the rest of the afternoon finding museums with an exhibit on World War Two. Halfway through the day Lois drags Clark off to interview the police regarding the latest arrests. They come back looking satisfied, Lois in particular looks pleased.

“What are you so happy about?” Jimmy asks.

“Guess who got an interview with one of the detainees from last night?” Lois says proudly.

“They just let you talk to a prisoner on a major open investigation?” Steve asks.

“Yes, well not technically, Clark interviewed the officer while I slipped away to the ladies room and must have gotten lost because instead I just happened to find Hanson’s cell.”

“Makes sense. I assume the ladies room is right next to where they keep the violent offenders,” Steve says dryly. From his desk Clark turns a snort into a cough.

“Laugh if you want but it was worth it. Hanson not only saw The Captain helping Superman, he had a whole conversation with him. It seems The Captain has a bit of temper problem.”

“He was talking to a Nazi,” Steve says, “I can’t say I blame the guy if he was a bit edgy.”

“Superman doesn’t lose his temper.” Lois says.

“Superman never fought in World War Two.”

“And neither has The Captain. Have you heard any descriptions of him, he can’t be older than 30.”

Steve opens his mouth and then shuts it. He’s an old man and nobody knows that here. Granted though people knew he was old back home, nobody really understood what that meant either. It wasn’t just about having gray hair of brittle bones. It was about society moving on without him. It was walking down a street from his childhood and realizing that he didn’t recognize it anymore. It was looking for Mr. Williams drugstore and finding it closed because Mr. Williams passed away decades ago. It was making a joke about Carry Grant that nobody ever got. Bucky understood. So did Peggy the few times she was lucid enough to carry on a conversation with him. But he didn’t have them with him here. 

Clark’s phone rings.

“Clark Kent…yes…it’s for an article, I’m…yes…3 PM tomorrow works for me.” Clark says. He hangs up, “That was Emmanuel Greks calling me back. He runs the World War Two exhibit at Metropolis Museum of History. He’s willing to meet with us tomorrow.”

Mind if I come with you?” Steve asks. He’s sure Superman will fill him in if Clark learns anything important but he hates waiting on the sidelines while others are on the frontline. Lois and Clark stare at him. He supposes it is unusual for a political cartoonist to do field work.

“I’m trying to tie my political cartoons in with this Nazi case that’s breaking. It would really help,” Steve says.

“I don’t have a problem with it,” Clark shrugs and Lois nods.

That night Steve is feeling restless. There are no more names on the list and there’s not much he can do on the Lugar pistol lead. Still he finds himself grabbing his shield and deflecting Jimmy’s request to order pizza for dinner to watch the sunset on a roof in the middle of Metropolis. He won’t be out long, he tells himself. He just wants to burn off a little energy and make sure things are quiet. An hour or two and then he’ll be back in time to watch the end of the baseball game with Jimmy.

The city is quiet. There’s a distant sound of sirens, but before Steve can do anything there’s a flash of red across the sky and the sirens go quiet. Steve is about to head back. His presence isn’t needed and there’s a chill in the air that says fall is coming. He’s almost to Jimmy’s apartment where he knows pizza, baseball, and good company are waiting for him when he catches something out of the corner of his eye.

Steve does a double take at the broad shoulders and black cape. Since when did Batman leave Gotham? Batman’s staring up at the sky from his perch on the rooftop. Looking for Superman, no doubt. Steve could offer his assistance, perhaps Batman has another lead on the Nazis from Gotham, but something holds him back. Batman’s face is set in a deep scowl and Steve’s gut tells him to observe before getting involved. Steve’s been in enough firefights to listen to his gut. He finds an out of the way perch where he can watch and listen in.

“Superman,” Batman says in a low voice, “I know you can hear me.”

He sounds impatient and he paces on the rooftop like a caged animal. Superman lands next to him and Steve is pleased to see that Superman looks just as surprised to see Batman here as he is.

“Batman?” Superman asks.

“Clark Kent.” Batman says stiffly and Steve perks up. He isn’t sure how he feels about someone like Batman knowing who Clark is. There’s something dangerous about Batman that Steve would prefer he stay very far away from his friends.

“What?” Superman sputters.

“That’s your name.” Batman says and Steve nearly falls off his perch. Batman has to be joking. Does Batman even know how to joke?

“No it’s not,” Superman says, clearly flusters. He’s a poor liar. “Who told you that?”

Batman scoffs, “Nobody told me. I worked it out on my own shortly after you started showing up in news reports.”

“Why?” Superman asks wavering between annoyed and flustered. The more flustered he gets the more Steve sees Clark beneath the red cap and giant ‘S’. The way he crosses his arms and hunches over himself protectively is a move Steve has seen more than once in the bullpen.

“I needed to make sure you weren’t a threat. I assessed that you weren’t and let you continue unbothered.” Batman says. Steve raises an eyebrow. He’s not sure he approves of Batman’s prying in the name of the greater good. It reminds him too much of Fury and shield.

“Thanks for that.” Clark says, landing firmly on annoyed, “are you going to tell me who you are?”

Batman doesn’t answer. Steve wonders just how much research Batman did on Clark Kent, as he’s quite certain that if he wanted to Clark could suss out Batman’s identity without even having to resort to x-ray vision.

“I could find out.” Superman says.

“You could, but you won’t. That’s not really your style.” Batman says confidently. He’s right, it’s not Clark’s style to invade other people’s privacy like that. He’s too decent of a guy. In ordinary circumstances Steve would like to think of himself as too decent of a guy to do something like that too, but a tiny voice in his head that sounds a lot like Natasha makes a note to do some further research on Gotham’s Dark Knight and Steve doesn’t correct it.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re here at least?” Clark asks.

“It’s about The Captain.” Batman says and Steve leans forward, intrigued.

“What about him? Do you want to find him and tell him you know his secret identity too?”

“That’s the problem,” Batman growls, “I don’t.”

“What?” Clark asks.

“You heard me. I don’t know. He comes out of nowhere. He’s clearly well trained and experienced but I can’t find any record of him anywhere. There’s no reports, no witnesses, no clues.” Batman paces, growing more agitated, “It doesn’t make sense. A man with his skill level doesn’t appear out of nowhere.”

“And why does this matter?” Clark asks.

“Because, if I don’t know who he is, I can’t assess how much of a risk he is.” Batman snaps. Steve’s lips quirk into a half smile. It’s a good thing Batman has no way to get ahold of the risk assessment General Ross surely has on him.

“Risk? The Captain isn’t a risk. He saved my life. He took down a Nazi cell.” Clark says.

“Yes, how very convenient that he shows up right when you needed him. Almost like he planned it. Saving Superman’s life, right in front of the Daily Planet. You have to admit that’s rather good PR for him.” Batman says.

“You’re paranoid.”

“And you’re too trusting.”

“He’s giving me no reason not to trust him,” Clark huffs, “ and if he ever does, I’ll handle it.”

“Handle it.” Batman scowls, “you shouldn’t wait until things go wrong to start worrying about how to handle it.”

“Don’t tell me what to do in my own city.” Clark says crossing his arms.

“Then don’t put millions of lives at risk because you made the mistake of trusting the wrong person.” Batman says stepping into Clark’s personal space. Clark stiffens but doesn’t step back. Steve can feel the tension all the way from his shadowed hiding spot. This could end in a fight. He decides to intervene before heat vision and baterangs start flying.

“Evening Gentlemen,” Steve says jumping down from his perch and landing between them. Both jerk in surprise.

“I hope I’m not interrupting something,” he says.

“No Captain. No problem.” Clark says not taking his eyes off Batman. Batman remains silent.

“Good, any updates from Gotham on the Nazi cells?” Steve asks. Batman hesitates like he doesn’t want to answer, but finally says, “Most of the cells have been raided or are being monitored. We’re still trying to pin down who the contacts were between Gotham and Metropolis.”

“Have any of the weapons you’ve come across have modifications made to them?” Steve asks.

“Not that I’ve seen,” Batman says tightly, like every piece of intel he’s giving Steve is painful.

“Keep an eye out for them. We’ve seen some interesting design changes and I want to know if the modifications are coming out of Gotham.”

Batman bristles at the direct command but dips his head in acknowledgment.

“Well, I think this was productive. Keep us informed on how things are going in Gotham and we’ll keep you updated on Metropolis,” Steve says, “and if this meeting is over we should all head out. I don’t plan on spending all night on a roof and I suggest you boys don’t either.” Steve says just to watch Batman’s jaw clench at being called a boy.

“I should get going.” Clark says and Batman grunts, spinning around heading towards the ledge. Steve could let it end there. He knows Batman will never stop trying to figure out who he is and given enough time he’ll uncover it eventually. Steve doesn’t really care. Having a secret identity is a novel experience and he enjoys the privacy it provides, but he was a public figure once and he can do it again if he has to. Still, he can’t help causing a little mischief for Batman.

“Batman,” he says and waits for Batman to stop, “If you want to learn more about me, you might want to brush up on your World War Two history.”

It’s a terrible, wonderful, perfect clue. One that will send Batman on a wild goose chase, searching through countless history books for a name that doesn’t exist here. A private joke that Batman can’t possibly understand, that is only amusing for Steve. Batman stares at him and then leaps, disappearing into the night. Behind him Steve hears the whoosh of Clark taking off. Steve is alone, a small smile playing across his face.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve, Lois, and Clark take a field trip to a museum.

The next day Steve gets to work early. Clark’s desk is empty but Steve isn’t surprised, he heard about an Earthquake in Los Angeles on the news this morning. Steve pours himself a coffee and takes a seat at his desk, greeting Perry, and Lois, and Jimmy as they trickle in.

Clark comes in a few minutes late fiddling with his tie and smelling faintly of smoke. He hunches his shoulders to appear smaller, never really standing up straight. Bucky did that sometimes, when too many eyes were on him. It made him look less intimidating, less of a threat. Steve can’t believe what an idiot he’s been and it’s only a small comfort that apparently nobody other than Batman has ever figured it out either.

Steve has thought long and hard about what he plans on saying to Clark today. He has gone over scripts in his head, strategized on how to explain his own dual life, has gotten everything just about perfect, and then chucked it all. This isn’t his secret to know. If Clark didn’t trust him enough to tell him in the first place, than the best thing Steve can do is respect that and keep a lid on it.

All morning Steve works on his art, his eyes drifting to where Clark is talking to Lois and laughing easily. It’s good to know that Superman has a normal life and normal friends. It’s reassuring that Superman can put being a superhero on hold to tell Jimmy how to talk to girls or tell a joke to Lois. That Superman can spend some time just being Clark Kent. Since waking up from the ice, Steve never really had that. The world needed Captain America too much to let Steve Rogers exist.

“Steve,” Clark says, “Ready to got meet with Greks?”

“Right, ready,” Steve says. He brushes away his thoughts, no use dwelling on his past, and grabs his notebook and some pens.

The World War Two exhibit is small compared to the one Steve visited in the Smithsonian. Army Greens are hung in glass cases and there’s a wall detailing the different medals handed out during the war. A black and white film showing a US camp plays on loop.

“Thank you for meeting with us.” Clark says. Steve turns around to see a smartly dressed man with dark red hair and a pair of bifocals.

“I’m happy to Mr. Kent, I’ve been following yours and Ms. Lane’s articles about the network of Neo-Nazis with interest.” Mr. Greks says shaking his hand.

“I’m here to ask about a couple of World War Two era guns, Lugar Pistols. You wouldn’t happen to have anything like that would you?” Clark asks. Steve looks at the guns on display, mostly German guns.

“I’m afraid not. I bought a few for the museum. But unfortunately they were stolen months ago. Along with several other guns from the same era.” Mr. Greks shakes his head, “a shame too. They would have fit perfectly in the exhibit.”

“Did they ever catch who did it?” Clark asks. Steve cocks his head to listen in as he walks around each display. It’s rather odd seeing a museum dedicated to World War Two that doesn’t mention Captain America or even Hydra in passing.

“Nothing. Not a trace.” Mr. Greks says, “I don’t think the police really cared at the time.”

Steve stops, a Nazi flag is stretched out on the wall in front of him. An SS uniform displayed beneath it. A wave of disgust rolls down Steve’s spine. The flag is displayed a bit too proudly as it hangs as a centerpiece to the whole exhibit, it reminds him of marching through Germany.

Across from it is an American Flag with a description that it came from the 107th infantry regiment. Bucky’s old unit. Steve looks away, a swell of homesickness washing over him.

For a museum dedicated to World War Two Steve finds it lacking. There’s little mention of the Pacific front, except for a small plaque regarding Pearl Harbor and the holocaust is mostly confined to one corner. It’s a shame how little funding goes into museums like these, how easily history is forgotten. Though, Steve supposes, he’s a bit biased on these things.

“But you must have your own suspicions? I’m sure the average robber wouldn’t want a bunch of historical guns.” Clark says, “They can’t be as practical as the modern versions.”

“Well,”Mr. Greks hesitates, “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble, but the intern we had at the time was a bit…difficult. I ended up having to fire him not long after.”

“Can you give us his name?” Lois asks but Mr. Greks is already shaking his head.

“I’m sorry we don’t give out employee information, even ex-employees.”

“Understandable, thank you for your time.” Clark says.

Outside Lois, Clark, and Steve reconvene.

“I’ll head back to the office and start making calls,” Lois says, “it shouldn’t be that hard to track down an intern.”

“Good, I’ll—” Clark cuts himself off, tilting his head as if he’s suddenly heard something. A wrinkle appears between his eyes as he frowns.

“Clark, you don’t look so good, maybe you should head home.” Steve says.

“What?... Oh, yeah. Headache.” Clark mumbles before running off.

“Clark?” Lois calls after him, “That’s not even the direction of his apartment.”

She starts to go after him.

“He probably wants to stop at the store for Advil or something.” Steve says hailing a cab, “we should get back to the office. The intern is a good lead.”

“Right,” Lois says, still looking worried as she slides into the taxi next to Steve.

The ride back is spent speculating on how the intern could have gotten the guns without showing up on the security cameras. Steve likes Lois. There’s a fire in her that is reminiscent of Peggy. Peggy would have definitely liked Lois. She was always of the opinion that there weren’t enough women reporters covering serious stories. Usually that complaint was made in a bar shooting whisky back with the commandoes after yet another war correspondent saw fit to comment on her legs while she was trying to update the press on the latest casualty count.

Not that all reporters were bad. Some were out there on the front lines, eating the same sludge that hardly counted as food as the troops. Those reporters were heroes. Steve has a feeling Lois would have been one of those reporters.

Lois starts calling around as soon as she gets back to the office. From his desk Steve can hear her arguing with the temp agency that placed the intern with the museum. He keeps his head low to hide his grin.

Clark shows back up just after lunch, heading to his desk like he doesn’t notice Lois staring after him.

“What happened with your headache?” She asks.

“My what?” Clark says and Steve huffs. Clark needs to get better at lying if he plans on keeping his identity a secret indefinitely.

“Right, my headache. I was feeling better and I really don’t want to miss any breaks in this case.” Clark recovers with an easy smile that Lois accepts without question. Steve shakes his head, Clark is lucky that Lois has such a soft spot for him. It’s the only excuse he can think of that’s allowed Clark to slip past her for so long.

“Good, you can help me argue with the woman at the temp agency.” Lois says.

“Actually, don’t need to. I stopped at the museum on my way back and convinced Greks to give me the name.” Clark says.

“How’d you do that?” Lois asks.

“I managed to charm the name out of him.”

Steve wonders how much of Clark’s charm relied on Superman’s x-ray vision.

“Well there’s no use standing around here and waiting, let’s go.” Lois says grabbing her jacket.

“You coming Steve?” Clark asks, “Or do you have enough material for your art.”

Steve looks at his half-finished drawing. He really should be working. Anything important they learn Steve’s sure Superman will share with the Captain…but being a part of the investigation feels too good. It’s like having a mission again. It feels right.

“I could use a little more,” Steve says.

They stand on the street outside the intern’s apartment door.

“James Weber, age 22. Studying history and political science at the local college.” Clark says. Lois knocks. They hear a thump from inside, like someone has fallen off a couch. A few minutes later James opens the door. There are dark bags under his eyes and his clothing is rumpled like he fell asleep in them after a long night.

“Hello?” He asks. Lois smiles.

“Hello, we’re doing a story on internships and local college students,” Lois says, “we were wondering if we could ask you some questions?”

James stares at them a moment before shrugging, “I guess.”

He opens the door and lets them in. Beer cans sit on top of textbooks and the ground is littered with papers. James kicks a few of them out of the way as he leads them to the couch, and mutters an apology.

“Finals week is coming up. Didn’t have time to clean.” He grabs a few used paper plates from the coffee table and hastily stuffs them in the trash.

“So you wanted to ask me about my internship at the library?” He asks.

“Library, I thought you were an intern at the museum.” Lois says. James’s cheeks go pink.

“No, I…um lost that job.” James says, embarrassed. Lois gives him a sympathetic look, as if she wasn’t already aware.

“I’m sure it happens to a lot of young kids. First time out in the work force, you show up a bit late, a bit hung over, one too many times.”

“It wasn’t like that,” James snaps, “I did take the internship seriously.”

“Then what happened?” Clark asks gently. Watching Lois and Clark work in tandem is a treat, like watching Clint and Natasha fight. Two minds becoming one on the battlefield.

“I got into an argument because Greks is an idiot.” James says, “And instead of admit that he was wrong, he fired me.”

“What did you argue over?”

“Him wasting money, making stupid purchases.” James says, his face flushing in anger.

“What do mean?” Lois prompts.

“He bought these stupid guns. A ton of them, way too many to actually display. We didn’t even need more guns; we have a full wall of them already.” James says.

Lois and Clark share a look.

“And these guns,” Clark asks, “what did Mr. Greks do with them? Did he display them?”

James shakes his head, “Nah, never got the chance. Someone stole all of them. Karma.”

“How unfortunate.” Lois says.

“I’d say blessing in disguise. Everything’s insured. Maybe he’ll use the insurance money to buy things that we can actually put out for the public.” James says, “It was probably the “blessing in disguise” comment that got me fired.”

“Well, it certainly sounds like you got a raw deal and we will be certain to include that in our story,” Lois says.

“Thanks. The school gave me so much shi- sorry, a hard time for getting fired so I’d love to be able to show them your article when you finish.” James says as he leads them to the door.

“Just keep your eye on the paper.” Lois says.

The head back to the office and convene around Lois’s desk.

“So the kid sounded sincere, but I don’t know,” Lois says, chewing on a pen, “Clark, thoughts?”

“He didn’t seem like a liar,” Clark says, “maybe we should go back to Greks and see if he would let us look at the security tapes from the night the guns went missing.”

“If he even still has them.” Lois says.

“This line might be a dead end.” Clark sighs. Steve looks out the window; it’s a disappointing conclusion and one that doesn’t quite sit right with him. Outside he can see an American flag flapping in the breeze. Something clicks.

“The American flag was displayed under the Nazi flag.” Steve says..

“And?” Lois asks.

“It goes against regulations to display a US flag under another.” Steve says, “Trust me, I’ve been to enough museums to know that no self-respecting museum would display a US flag below a Nazi flag. And when I was walking around I also noticed that the exhibit was scarce on details about the holocaust. Maybe it’s a funding issue…but Neo-Nazis also love to downplay the holocaust.”

Clark folds his arms and Lois leans forward, both look intrigued.

“All the guns stolen were German. And James said there were too many to even display. What if Greks bought the guns, intending for them to be stolen?”

“It’s a good cover.” Clark says, “Nobody would be suspicious of a museum curator buying old guns and Nazi paraphernalia.”

“Well, then” Lois says standing up, “Let’s go back to Greks, and see what he has to say for himself.”

“You can’t go in and accuse a man of being a Nazi.” Clark says, “Everything we have is circumstantial. Let me talk to Superman. He can go in and snoop around tonight.”

Lois crosses her arms.

“I’m serious. It’s dangerous.” Clark says.

Lois rolls her eyes, “fine. One night and then I’m interviewing Greks and Superman about it.”

Tonight. It seems Steve’s night just got booked. That suits him just fine. Even if Clark hadn’t decided to check it out Steve would have done his own snooping on the museum. Clark’s collaboration will just make his job easier.

Still, Steve has a few hours between his day job and his night job. There are several ways he could spend it. Jimmy invited him for drinks with him, Lois, and Clark. On another night that would be fun, but Steve already knows what he wants to do. It was rather unsporting of Batman to go after Clark’s secret identity like that, even superheroes deserve privacy. And Steve knows that Batman is tearing through every bit of data he can find on The Captain for a lead on his identity. It only seems fair that Steve returns the favor.

Steve pulls out the notebook he took to Gotham and goes over his list. Intelligent, Eccentric, Stealthy, Antisocial. There were few men that met the requirements on list, even fewer when Steve added wealthy.

Steve grabs a Gotham newspaper and heads to the gossip section. He immediately discounts anyone over the age of forty and younger than twenty, as well as women. That completed he’s left with Oswald Cobblepott, Thomas Elliot, and Bruce Wayne. All three were wealthy enough to make a poor Brooklyn boy blush at the sight of their extravagance. And if one were to believe the gossip columns each was eccentric in their own way.

Steve immediately discounted Oswald. From his pictures he’s at least a head shorter and a bit too portly to be the man Steve met on the roof. He’s left with Thomas Elliot and Bruce Wayne; two men of opposite extremes according to tabloids. Thomas is reserved to the point of secretive while Bruce is the embodiment of the life of the party.

Life of the party hardly matches the description of antisocial. Steve could cross him off the list now, except something Tony had once explained to him. Rubbing elbows with the elite members of society isn’t like interacting with the rest of society. There are different rules. One always needed a persona, a mask of sorts. Steve had seen it too. Tony could be beat to hell coming off a mission and running on coffee and the memory of sleep, but the moment the cameras were on him he’d be smiling and cracking jokes like he was on the red carpet. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. That was his persona.

Steve flips to the financial section of the paper. WayneTech stock is crushing the competition; it seems that Bruce Wayne isn’t as poor a businessman as the tabloids like to claim. On the front page an article talks about a generous donation made to the Gotham City Hospital on behalf of the Wayne Foundation. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Perhaps Steve is letting his association with Tony cloud his judgment… but it fits. Bruce Wayne just might be Batman. Steve looks out the window where the sun is low in an amber sky. It’s a good theory, and one he will have to do more research on before he can be certain, but for now he has business to attend to.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark and Steve take an unauthorized trip to the museum with disastrous consequences.

Clark is outside the museum at the back door when Steve shows up.

“What are you doing here?” Clark asks.

“Same thing I assume you are.” Steve shrugs. He looks past Clark at the door that Clark was about to rip off its hinges. The lock doesn’t look that complicated.

“But how did you know to come here?”

“You have your sources and I have mine.” Steve says. No need to tell him that they are the same sources. He squeezes past Clark to take a better look at the lock. One afternoon, in between disasters Clint and Natasha had taken it upon themselves to teach Captain America how to “be a spy.” Mostly it was an afternoon of stealthily summersaulting around Stark Tower, trying to avoid Jarvis, as if that was even possible. One lesson, however, was lock picking. Natasha had even gifted him with one of her spare lock picks. Since then Steve has had little reason to utilize his new skills, but he’s always carried around that lock pick. Mostly out of sentimentality, but also partly out of pragmatism. One never knows when he may encounter a door he can’t smash down with his shield.

He takes out the lock pick and gets to work. Clark watches him.

“Where did you learn to pick a lock?”

“A Russian spy taught me,” Steve says, listening carefully for the click of the lock.

“A Russian?” Clark asks. Steve gives a half nod just as the last tumbler falls into place. He opens the door.

“So you dress like the flag, fight Nazis, and work with Russian spies?” Clark asks following Steve inside.

“It’s not that ridiculous.” Steve says, “The Russians were our allies during the war after all.”

They’ve entered a backroom lined with shelves upon shelves of museum pieces waiting to be displayed. Most of it, Steve notes, Nazi oriented. He peeks in a box and finds Iron Crosses and other medals Steve hasn’t seen since the war. He shoves the box back on the shelf.

Clark is looking around very intense, almost like he’s not seeing the room but beyond it. He walks slowly up and down each aisle, Steve at his heels. Clark stops.

“Behind that wall.” He says pointing, “There’s a tiny room.”

Steve runs his fingers along the wall, looking for any type of switch or lever to open the secret door. He finds nothing.

“Maybe it’s not the wall but something else.” Clark says. He begins looking through the shelves. Steve turns to join him, but something stops him. Out of the corner of his eye he spots a very familiar face. Adolf Hitler stares balefully at him from his slightly crooked portrait. Odd that the portrait would be crooked when clearly owned by a supporter. Steve sighs. He tugs the portrait into the correct position. A portion of the wall clicks and swings open.

“Good work.” Clark says, “Did your spy friend teach you that too?”

“No, I just know how these guys think.” Steve says.

Inside the secret room is mostly bare, just a small table with some tools scattered on top. Among them is a gun, a browning, partially disassembled. Steve picks through the pieces, grateful that there doesn’t seem to be any kryptonite among the mess.

“Who knows how many guns he’s modified and gave out already.” Clark says.

“He must have kept some sort of record,” Steve says looking around, but finding nothing.

“We’ll just have to ask him as soon as we track him down. But until then, there’s no use for this.” Clark picks up the gun and crushes it, dropping it back on the table.

“What are you doing?”

Clark and Steve both jump, spinning around. Greks stands in the doorway and Steve curses. He’s knows better than to let his guard down.

“It’s over Greks.” Clark says.

“Yes it is.” Greks agrees. He’s wearing a large coat with his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“Raise your hands, slowly” Steve says. He raises his shield, prepared to jump in front of Clark in the case of more Kryptonite bullets. Greks smiles. His hands slide out his pockets. He’s clutching a canister, one Steve is all too familiar with. Mustard Gas. He breathes a small sigh of relief. Mustard Gas won’t necessarily be pleasant, but he knows from experience that the serum will fix whatever damage it causes.

“Carrying that in here, you’re only putting yourself at risk,” Steve says, “and trust me, Mustard Gas is nothing to play around with.”

“Oh don’t worry Captain,” Greks says, “The gas is modified. It’s quite harmless now. To humans.”

He pulls the pin. The familiar sulfuric smell of mustard gas wafts through the room, along with an emerald green cloud. Clark begins coughing.

“Did you make _kryptonite gas_?” 

Clark collapses to his knees, coughing and spitting. Greks watches him with a too smug smirk on his face. Steve doesn’t waste any time. Greks is a middle aged museum owner who wants to glorify the Nazis but wouldn’t survive a day in their army and Steve is a super soldier. He’s across the room before Greks has realized that he moved. No time for quips or speeches. Steve punches once and Greks collapses, unconscious. Steve takes a few seconds to tie him to his work table and then rushes back to Clark’s side.

Clark is gasping as he coughs, trying to stand but falling back panting with every attempt. Steve has seen this kind of reaction before. He grabs Clark’s arms and hauls him over his shoulder. He’s hoping a little fresh air is all it will take to get Clark breathing properly.

Steve carries Clark outside and sets him down against museum on pavement. Clark leans over, still coughing, and spits.

“My eyes are burning,” he gasps and in the light of the dingy street lamps Steve can see how red they are. Steve stands up and grabs Clark. He can’t take him back to Jimmy’s apartment, there will be questions and he doubts a hospital will be able to treat this. Making up his mind, Steve picks up Clark and starts running.

“Just hang in their pal,” Steve says, “we’ll have you home and fixed up in no time.”

Clark’s apartment is cozy in a cluttered sort of way. Notes for his next article are piled on his table. Steve sets him down on his worn out couch, grabs a bowl and a wet towel.

“We need to wash out your eyes.” Steve says. Clark mumbles something that Steve takes as a yes. Steve keeps talking, if only to block out Clark’s labored breathing.

“Hopefully water will be enough, if not we’ll try something else. During the war the best way to wash off mustard gas was kerosene. Doubt you have any of that lying around though. Nobody does anymore. Gasoline works in a pinch though.”

Clark doesn’t respond. His redlined eyes flicker around the room, pained and not really seeing it. Steve wonders if kryptonians can go into shock. He checks Clark’s heartbeat and finds it racing by human standards. After this is over Steve is going to have to have a serious talk to Clark about Kryptonian physiology.

Clark is beginning to shiver so Steve tosses a blanket over him and goes back to cleaning his eyes until they’re no longer red with inflammation. Gently Steve sits him up and wraps a second blanket around his shoulders.

“I’ll be right back.” Steve says. Clark tries to respond but only lets out a hacking cough that wracks his whole body. Steve heads through the kitchen and starts shuffling through the cabinets for cups. He can still hear Clarks breathing, interspaced with coughs and gasps, from the other room. Steve closes his eyes and for a moment he’s back on the frontlines and men are choking out their last breaths and it’s impossible to save all of them.

His father died from mustard gas. Not immediately. He suffered through years of wheezing and deep painful coughing fits, according to his mother. Steve really hopes that Clark’s kryptonian body will afford him a happier fate. 

Steve finds a glass and fills it with water. He goes back and finds Clark curled up on the couch leaning against the armrest with his eyes closed. He opens them at Steve’s approach.

“Drink some water. It will help.” Steve says placing the glass in Clark’s hands. He runs a hand over Clark’s forehead. He’s cold and clammy.

Clark sips on as he looks around.

“This is m—Clark’s apartment.” He says, his voice no more than a scratchy whisper. There’s a flash of fear in his eyes that he’s not strong enough to hide. Steve has never been afraid of his identity being known. He was a soldier first, a superhero second, and during the war his identity didn’t really matter; Nazis were going to shooting at him either way. The rest of the Avengers were equally as public. Steve can’t even imagine Thor successfully hiding the fact that he was Thor from anybody.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t understand Clark’s fear though. He’s seen what can happen to people who are different. If things with the government were to suddenly sour, the ability for Superman to slip back into his role as mild mannered Clark Kent is irreplaceable.

“Clark it’s ok. You’re secret’s safe with me.”

“Thank you.” Clark says. He finishes the water, his eyes beginning to droop.

“Get some sleep,” Steve says, helping Clark lie down. Even with the two blankets over him, Clark is trembling enough to shake the couch. Steve finds two more blankets in the hall closet.

“Never got cold before,” Clark mumbles apologetically.

“First time for everything,” Steve says kindly. He takes the chair so he can keep an eye on Clark all night. Despite his pained breathing, Clark drifts quickly into unconsciousness and Steve settles in for a long night.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Clark only getting worse Steve takes a gamble and looks for help.

Clark wakes several times during the night. Never more than a few minutes and each time with increasing levels of confusion. He thrashes weakly, limbs getting tangled in his blanket, and calls out for his mother. Steve soothes him as best he can, smoothing down his hair and whispering comforting things until Clark drifts back to sleep.

He’s getting worse, not better. He can barely lift his head up and each time he looks at Steve it’s with a little less recognition. Steve’s not a doctor and this goes beyond the field first aid he does know. If he were home this is about the time he’d be relying on Bruce and Tony to put their giant brains together and come up with a cure. But Steve doesn’t have a Tony or a Bruce; he has a Jimmy and a Lois and a Perry…and possibly a batman.

Clark groans.

“Ma?” Clark tries to sit up, “I..I think there was somethin’ wrong with your soup.”

Clark flops back on the couch, mumbling, “Don’t feel good.”

“It’s ok Clark, you just need more sleep.” Steve says gently. He puts a hand on Clark’s head, still cold despite the sweat beginning to dampen his hair. Steve untangles one of the blankets and smoothes it back out over Clark’s chest. Clark watches him with confused and fearful eyes. Steve rubs small circles on Clark’s chest the same way his mother used to do for him when he was ill. She used to say it helped to open of the lungs. Steve isn’t sure if that’s true, but it always felt nice and helped him sleep when the coughing jarred him awake. Clark’s eyes close and his breathing evens out into a wheeze.

Steve stands up. He doesn’t know if Bruce Wayne and Batman are one in the same. He had mostly been looking into Batman’s identity on a lark, a bit of mischievousness that he never actually planned on using. Now, however, with Clark steadily declining, he prays that he was right, because he is going to need Batman’s help.

The sun is just beginning to pinken the sky as Steve steps outside and locks Clark’s door behind him. He doesn’t like the idea of leaving Clark alone in this state, but there’s nobody he can trust to watch him like this. It’s times like this that Steve misses the benefit of having a team. Being a superhero should never be a solo gig.

Steve catches the first train into Gotham. He goes over everything he knows about Bruce Wayne and Batman in his head again, looking for any hint that he might be wrong, but the more he reviews the data, the more convinced he becomes that he’s right. The train pulls into Gotham station and from there Steve hails a cab and requests it take him straight to Wayne Manor.

The cab driver takes in his costume that he forgot to change out of and his shield.

“Mr. Wayne having a costume party?”

Steve gets in, “Yeah. Can you get me there fast?”

“Mr. Wayne lives pretty far out of the city. I don’t usually go out that way.”

“You’ll get paid well.” Steve promises. He has only a few paychecks saved up in his bank account, but he’ll spend all of it if it gets him to Batman.

“Right away Sir.”

Now, on the last leg of his journey Steve starts putting together what he’s going to say to Wayne when he sees him. He doubts Wayne will be thrilled at him showing up on his doorstep, but he also doubts that the man would be cruel enough to turn him away when Clark’s life is at stake.

The taxi pulls up to the mansion. It’s large and stately, as rich and opulent as Stark Tower, but different. Stark Tower had an aura of “new” about it. All the latest gadgets and gizmos and Tony was always updating and renovating it. Wayne Manor is grand in an old fashioned way. The place just screams “old money” dating back several generations. Howard had made his fortune inventing during the war. Steve doubts the Wayne family can trace their family history back far enough to a time when they were poor.

Old money, new money; it hardly matters to Steve though. He knocks on the door. An old man in a suit answers it. If he’s flustered by Steve’s attire, he hardly shows it.

“May I help you?” He asks in a lilting British accent. He must be the butler. There’s a distinct Jarvis like way about him.

“I’m looking for Bruce Wayne.”

The butler looks him up and down, “I’m sorry, the master is rather busy at the moment and has no time for…solicitors.”

“I’m not—” The Butler starts to close the door, Steve catches it. “This is about Superman. He’s hurt and I need Batman.”

The butler freezes, his hand still on the door.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The butler says, “Now I think it’s time for you to leave.”

“Please. Clark will die if he can’t help me.”

“Let him in Alfred.” A voice says from inside. It’s deep and familiar and Steve knows as soon as he hears it that his hunch was correct.

Alfred looks like he wants to argue, but good breeding prevents him and he steps to the side. His eyes follow Steve suspiciously, like he expects Steve to try to steal the good silver when his back is turned.

“Mr. Wayne. Thank y—”

“What happened to Clark?”

Straight to business. Good.

“We were investigating a Nazi that had started to make kryptonite weapons. Clark got hit with some sort of kryptonite gas bomb.”

Bruce Wayne gives Steve a hard stare, like he doesn’t full believe him.

“Why did you come here looking for Batman?”

“Because I had a hunch that you and him were the same person.” Steve says, he watches Bruce’s face closely, but he gives nothing away. Instead he laughs, adopting a smile that Steve has seen Tony give to the press numerous times over the years when uncomfortable questions start.

“And what possibly gave you that idea?” His voice holds amused contempt, but there’s an undercurrent of something far more dangerous.

“Because you remind me of an old friend, and once I saw the similarities between you and him, it was obvious that you were Batman.”

“What old friend?” Bruce asks, amusement gone.

“You wouldn’t know him, he’s gone.” Steve says with a sad smile. Bruce doesn’t seem appeased and he opens his mouth for another round of questioning, but Steve cuts him off.

“Please, he’s getting worse. Either help me or not, but either way I need to get back to him.” Steve says.

“Funny that you know both Clark and I, but I can’t find a thing on you. Absolutely nothing until you dropped into the spotlight a few weeks ago. Now in only a month, you know more about me or Clark than virtually anybody else. And given the logo on your suit, I can only assume you’re working for the government.” Bruce says coldly.

Steve stares at him. Was he serious? Clark is dying and he’s worried about secrets. Steve rips off his cowl.

“My name is Steve Rogers and how I got here is a very long and complicated story, but I promise to tell you if you save Clark.”

Bruce stares at him for a long time.

“You do political cartoons for the Daily Planet. You work with Clark.” He finally says.

“Yes,” Steve says impatiently, “Clark is a friend, now can you help him or not?”

“Follow me,” Bruce says.

Bruce walks off without another word and Steve suspects he’s the sort that doesn’t ask twice. They head towards the back of the manor, passing through one stately room after another. As they pass through the parlor Steve sees a giant portrait of a young boy and his parents. The boy, a young Bruce Wayne, is smiling.

In a closet off of the kitchen there’s paneled wall. With a push of a hidden button the wall slides away. Bruce says nothing but starts down the stairs. Steve follows. One flight of steps, and then another, and another. Steve is just beginning to wonder if this is a trick and he’ll end up outside on the edge of the property when the last flight of stairs gives way to a cave.

The cave is as state of the art as any of Tony’s labs and Steve marvels at the skill it took to build a lab inside of a cave. He looks up. Bats sleep, nestled together, along the ceiling. Real bats.

“You made a batcave?” Steve asks. Bruce ignores his question.

“Tell me everything you can about the kryptonite gas and Clark’s symptoms.” He says.

“The gas came out of a mustard gas container and at first the symptoms seemed to mimic that of mustard gas. He was coughing, displayed difficulties breathing, and had inflamed eyes. I removed him from the gas as fast as possible and took him home. I was hoping that once he was away from the kryptonite he would improve, but he’s only gotten worse,” Steve says, “I think the kryptonite particles may have entered his bloodstream. He’s confused, has muscle weakness, and is cold.”

As Steve speaks Bruce begins typing on a giant computer.

“I’ve known kryptonite was a weakness of his for a while. And so have most of his enemies. I’ve been trying to find ways to neutralize it for a while.” Bruce says.

“And have you?”

“The best I can figure is that he gets his strength from sunlight. The more powerful the rays, the more super the man. Enough sunlight should stimulate his immune system enough to destroy the kryptonite in his blood.”

“So we just need to ship him to Hawaii? We don’t have time for that.” Steve says.

“No, we don’t…and normal sunlight wouldn’t be enough in this case anyway.”

“I hope there was a “but” in there.” Steve says impatiently. 

“It’s never been tested, but I do have something.” Bruce stands up looking over his calculations, “I just hope it’s strong enough.”

He walks over to a table filled with enough gadgets to make Tony jealous and picks up a short metallic paddle. He pushes a button on the handle and the flat ends flares to life with a blinding white light.

“Let’s go.” Bruce says, “We’ll take the jet.”

The jet is sleek and black with the bat symbol stamped on the side. Someday, Steve will have to ask him about the bat motif. Inside has all the bells and whistles Steve would expect from a private jet owned by a billionaire genius superhero. Though he does miss the soothing voice of Jarvis.

Bruce takes command of piloting the plane while Steve sits copilot and tries not to touch anything. Instead he watches from the corner of his eye the stiff way Bruce is clenching his jaw. He wonders how much of that stress is worry for Clark and how much is him secretly seething that Steve figured out his secret identity.

“So, talk.” Bruce says.

“About what?”

Bruce takes his eyes off the window to shoot Steve an unamused look.

“Who are you, where did you come from, and how did you learn to fight like you do?”

“Steve Rogers, Brooklyn, and the US army.” Steve says.

“Shields aren’t standard issued weapons.” Bruce says.

Steve shrugs leaning back in his seat, “I wasn’t a standard soldier.”

“You’re being evasive. I want real answers.” Bruce says impatiently, his grip tightening on the controls.

“I know.” Steve says, “and you’ll get them, but Clark deserves answers too and it will be easier to wait so I can tell you both at the same time.”

Bruce hardly looks mollified but he lets the matter drop. In less than half the time the train would take Steve sees the skyline of Metropolis appear over the horizon. Even after only a short time of living in Metropolis, the familiar landscape gives Steve feelings of comfort, like he’s coming home.

Bruce bypasses the main airport and sets her down instead on a small private airport just outside of the city. A car is already waiting for them.

“Get in,” Bruce says gruffly before turning to give the driver Clark’s address. Less than twenty minutes later they pull up to Clark’s apartment. Steve approaches the door, worried about the condition Clark is in on the other side.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Steve work to save Clark and secrets are revealed.

Clark is asleep when Steve opens the door. Not peacefully asleep by the way he’s groaning and squirming, but it’s better than some of the alternatives. Steve had been tipping back and forth between imagining opening the door to an empty apartment while a feverish and confused Superman terrorized the city and coming back to find that Clark had passed on in his sleep.

Steve glances back at Bruce to see his face pale and his lips pressed in a thin line.

“Clark,” Steve says gently. He puts his hand on Clark’s forehead. It’s damp with a cold sweat that, upon closer examination, is tinted a pale green. Steve points it out to Bruce.

“His body must be trying to sweat out the kryptonite. That’s a good sign.” Bruce says. He begins untangling the cords and setting up the sunlight paddle that Steve hopes will cure Clark. Bruce works in a stiff silence that Steve doesn’t bother trying to break. Instead he grabs a fresh towel and dabs the kryptonite sweat away from Clark’s face.

“It’s ready.” Bruce says, “and put these on.”

He hands Steve a set of red tinted goggles. Steve slides them over his eyes and the living room goes hazy and dark.

“Don’t look directly at the light for more than a few seconds. You might go blind,” Bruce says and then he switches it on. Even with the goggles the light stings, making Steve’s eyes water. He looks down at Clark. Though his eyes are still squeezed shut, Clark’s face turns towards the light as if instinctively knowing its healing powers. His cheeks take on a rosy glow as his brow smoothes out.

Bruce starts at Clark’s head, but slowly moves the paddle downwards, bathing all of Clark in its glow. Clark’s fingers twitch as he weakly reaches for the light. When Bruce reaches Clark’s feet he carefully moves back up towards his head. He repeats the process several times and each time Clark responds with a little more vigor than before.

Steve steps into the kitchen while Bruce works. With each passing moment, he’s more convinced that his contraption worked. But he’s been on the other side of devastating illnesses before, just because you’re out of danger doesn’t mean you’re better.

He tuts at the state of Clark’s kitchen. For a farm boy there’s a distinct lack of fresh vegetable in his apartment. Even in the heart of Brooklyn his Ma always managed to bring home a few fresh vegetables each week. Instead Steve finds a sad can of chicken noodle soup pushed all the way in the back. Steve grimaces, but it’s better than nothing. He heats up the limp noodles and pours them in a bowl.

Clark is just waking up as Steve joins them in the living room. His skin has a healthy glow to it and his eyes are clear as he takes in Bruce with his paddle and Steve with his soup. His eyes zero in on Steve and trail down to take in Steve’s costume, his head tilting as he puts two and two together.

“How are you feeling?” Steve asks.

“Like I have the flu, or at least like how I imagine the flu feels like.” Clark says.

“What do you remember?” Steve asks taking a seat in the chair and handing Clark the soup. Clark’s face screws up in concentration.

“Greks!” He says, “He hit me with a smoke bomb or something.”

“Kryptonite gas.” Steve corrects.

“Steve, why are you dressed like that? And why is Bruce Wayne in my apartment?” Clark asks, “Am I dreaming?”

“No.” Steve hesitates. He doesn’t mind giving up his identity, but he hadn’t meant to out Bruce’s as well.

“I’m Batman, he’s The Captain, and you’re Superman.” Bruce says briskly, like saying it faster would make it less shocking.

“I-I” Clark’s head whips between them, as if unsure which one he wants to interrogate first. Bruce crosses his arms and glares.

“And if you breathe a word about this to anyone-”

Clark scoffs as he takes a bite of soup, “as if I would, I’m just shocked that someone who spends so much time in the gossip mags is Batman.”

Bruce shrugs, “sometimes the best way to be undercover is to be right in middle of the public eye. What I find more curious is how the Daily Planet has not one, but two superheroes working at it.”

Two sets of eyes turn towards Steve.

“I didn’t do it purposefully.” He says.

“I find that suspect.” Bruce says, “and we know so little about you.” 

“It’s a bit of a long story.” Steve warns.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Clark says cheerfully gesturing around his apartment with his spoon, “Please, both of you make yourselves at home.”

Bruce remains standing.

“I guess it all started in the 1940s, during the war. The army needed a test dummy for their super soldier program and I needed an in. The army wouldn’t take me otherwise on account of my asthma, and heart troubles, and scoliosis… and anemia.”

“You had all that growing up?” Clark asks. Bruce rolls his eyes.

“You’re a bit young for someone who should be a senior citizen by now.” Bruce accuses.

Steve ignores both of them, “anyway, the serum clearly worked. So I was put to work as Captain America, the world’s first super soldier.” He skips over the war bonds and the show girls. Some things should stay in the past, and instead gives them a brief description of hydra, the howling commandoes, Peggy, and Bucky.

“And then I put the plane in the water.” Steve said, “I expected to die…”

He trails off. Sitting in that plane with the ocean water flooding in Steve had made peace with his death, with missing out on the end of the war, with never meeting Peggy for their dance. It had been bittersweet, but he hadn’t regretted it in his last conscious moments.

Clark looks horrified. Bruce looks skeptical.

“I guess that explains why you got involved with the Neo-Nazi case.” Clark says.

Steve lowers his head, “After all the suffering Nazis have caused in both our worlds, I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.

“Anyway, I woke up decades later in New York. Suspended animation, according to the doctors. Nobody even knew the serum could do that.”

“You realize this sounds completely, unbelievable right?” Bruce asks, “And I say that knowing that there is a space alien sitting in the room.”

“Yeah, I know.” Steve says.

“Well there must be proof. Government records or something.” Clark says. Steve shakes his head, “I’m not done.”

“When I woke up it was 2012. SHIELD is the one who debriefed me.”

“SHIELD?” Bruce asks.

“Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. I joined the Avengers and tried to adjust to the 21st Century.” Steve says.

“That can’t have been easy,” Clark says sympathetically.

“Who are the Avengers?” Bruce asks brusquely.

Steve gives them the basic outline. Bruce, interrupting to ask questions about each one. He’s particularly suspicious over Thor and his alleged Godhood, as well as the Hulk. Steve can’t help but to drop in the fact that Tony Stark is also a billionaire philanthropist who spends more time in the gossip mags than not, just to watch Clark’s eyes light up mischievously as Bruce glares.

“You had your own Batman?” Clark asks. Bruce scowl deepens.

“Not exactly. Tony is…a bit more enthusiastically open about being Iron Man.”

“He doesn’t keep it a secret?” Clark asks, shocked.

“No, to be honest none of us did. Not that I could. There were too many history books that mentioned me. And you can’t expect the god of thunder to be subtle about things. Banner tried to keep a low profile, but the Hulk usually had other plans. Clint and Natasha sort of tried, but not very hard to be honest.”

“So, if you’re from 2012, how come Bruce and I didn’t join the Avengers?” Clark asks.

“I’m not from your future or your Earth really. I’ll explain when I get there. Like I said, this isn’t a short or a simple story.”

“Oh so not only are you a time traveller, you’re from a different Earth. This is very believable.” Bruce snaps. Steve shrugs, “You asked, and I’m telling you. Whether you believe me or not, is up to you.”

“How did you end up on our Earth?” Clark asks, “Science experiment gone wrong? A battle?”

“Not exactly,” Steve says, “The government and I didn’t see eye to eye on certain things once I came back. There was…tension. The government wanted a poster boy and for a while I was willing to play ball. The Avengers did good work. We saved a lot of people.”

Steve sighs, ducking his head down and running his fingers through his hair, “And then I found out that Hydra had infiltrated SHIELD and had been running things behind the scenes for decades.”

“Nazis? And the government just let that happen?” Clark asks.

“Operation Paperclip, or your world’s version of it I assume,” Bruce says softly.

Steve nods, “That’s what it started out as, but once Hydra was in, they spread like a virus.”

Steve eyes grow distant as he talks about Bucky. What Hydra had done to him, what they had turned him into after decades of torture and brainwashing. Clark snaps his spoon, his face flushing with unconcealed rage. Even Bruce’s face has lost its skeptical look, replaced by a tight look disgust. Steve jumps up to grab Clark another spoon, muttering something about Clark needing to eat for his health. In the kitchen he discretely wipes his eyes before rejoining them in the living room.

“But you stopped Hydra and saved you friend. Everything was okay, right?” Clark asks, with a hopeful innocence. Bruce gives Clark a pitying look.

“It wasn’t that simple.” Steve says before launching into how Sam and he had searched for months for Bucky, following dead lead after dead lead until duty called them away from their search. How when Bucky did pop back up it was only to be accused of a murder he didn’t commit. When Steve gets to the government’s plan on how to handle Bucky, Clark snaps a second spoon.

“They can’t just do that! What about the right to a trial? Or at least the right not to be murdered by your own government?”

“General Ross considered him a traitor and made sure he was stripped of his US citizenship,” Steve says bitterly. Steve keeps talking and doesn’t gloss over anything. He talks about the Sokovia Accords and his refusal to sign them. Clark nods along as if his choice was the obvious one, and Steve feels a clenching sensation in his chest release at Clark’s agreement. He stumbles when he talks about Tony. The meltdown of their friendship and the killing blow that came when they watched the video of the Winter Soldier killing his parents.

Bruce punches a wall. Clark jumps.

“What was that for?” Clark asks. Steve folds his arms over. He had read about how Bruce had acquired the company so young and had wondered how Bruce would react. He and Tony were just so similar…

“I couldn’t let him kill Bucky. Not for something he had no control over. Not for what Hydra did.” Steve says.

“Of course not.” Clark assures him immediately, still watching Bruce warily. Bruce doesn’t turn around.

“Just get on with your story,” He growls.

“We were arrested. The charges included treason for everyone involved. I couldn’t let the other’s go through that, so I cut a deal. General Ross got me at a secure military base and everyone else got let go with a warning.” Steve says, “it was the _right_ choice.”

Steve sticks out his chin stubbornly and dares either of them to argue.

“So your friend murders a man’s parents and gets away with it?” Bruce asks coldly.

“I’d hardly consider seventy years of being a prisoner of war, nothing,” Steve says matching his tone, “You’re a bit young. Alfred looks old enough to remember the war, maybe you should ask him for details about how bad it actually got. The history books really gloss over a lot of things.”

They stare at each other from across the room. Bruce blinks first.

“Alfred served in the war.” Bruce admits

“Good, then he’ll be able to tell you exactly what a hell it was for us.”

Steve settles back in his chair. Clark looks between them, wide eyed.

“Ross decided the best thing to do with me was push me through a wormhole and make me some other Earth’s problem. That’s how I ended up here.” Steve finishes.

“That’s an incredible story,” Clark says sincerely, “and I’m sorry for what your government did to you. They were completely out of line. But their loss is our gain I suppose, and I’m real glad you landed in Metropolis.”

Bruce grunts, “I’ll be running some simulations to see if your story checks out.”

“I wouldn’t expect any different from you.” Steve says. Bruce gives Clark a once over and declares him healthy. Then he packs with soldier like speed and efficiency. Steve wonders if Alfred taught him that.

“If your symptoms come back, call me. Otherwise, I’ll be in touch.” Bruce says and then disappears with Batman level stealth.

“He’s an odd man,” Clark says shutting the door behind him.

“You’re from space and I’m from another Earth. I hate to say this buddy, but I’m pretty sure he’s the most normal of our group.” Steve says patting his shoulder, “And finish your soup. It’s getting cold.”

Steve spends the night on Clark’s couch. Ostensibly in case Clark had any lingering reaction to the kryptonite, but mostly because Clark spent half the night asking Steve questions about the war and the Avengers like an overgrown schoolboy. Clark made for an excellent audience. His eyes grew wide as Steve talked about rescuing the Howling Commandoes and he gasped in all the right places.

“Vets used to hang out at the only pub in town.” Clark says as Steve finishes another story, “We used to go after school just to listen to their stories. There aren’t many of them left anymore.”

“No,” Steve says, as a pang of loneliness shoots through him, “The number dwindles every year.”

“Bruce will probably tell Alfred your story. Maybe you should reach out to him. Trade war stories.”

“You know, I just might do that. Bruce probably won’t be thrilled.” Steve says, a small smile forming.

“You’re Captain America.” Clark says impishly, “You fought Nazis. You can handle a bat.”

Steve laughs, a fully belly laugh that he hasn’t managed in years. The kind that shakes your shoulders and leaves you breathless and giggling.

Although Clark enjoys the war stories, he seems even more curious about the Avengers.

“So it’s a team of superheroes. You all just save the day together.”

“Yes, that’s usually what a “team” means.” Steve says, his mouth twitching. Clark rolls his eyes.

“I just think that’s kind of amazing. I want to be on a team.” Clark admits, “It sounds better than always doing it alone.”

A shy smile plays around his lips as his eyes flick down. Steve wonders how lonely it must be to be the last of your kind. He may have to witnesses the loss of his generation, but at least he could always be reassured that there were more humans roaming about. Clark didn’t have that luxury, and for all that he looked like a human, it wasn’t really the same as _being_ human. Steve’s heart tugs in sympathy for the young man in front of him.

“Listen,” Steve says seriously, putting a hand on his shoulder, “if you can convince Batman to join a team with you I will gladly join as well just to watch the resulting fireworks.”

Clark laughs and Steve sits back, satisfied. They spend the rest of the night lobbing around potential team names. Steve is partial to The Justice Society of America while Clark stubbornly insists that Super Friends is not a stupid name.

“How does The Justice League sound?” Clark asks, he’s yawning, curled up on his chair.

“Of America?”

“Not everything needs America in the title.” Clark rolls his eyes.

Steve smiles, “It’s a good name. I’d join a team named that.”

“Good, because that’s the team I’m going to form.” Clark murmurs his head dropping into his arms. Steve hustles him off to bed soon after. Returning to make his own bed on the couch. Steve drifts off to sleep, with a smile on his face, and a feeling of belonging burning in his chest in a way he hasn’t felt since he was with the Avengers.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumors about the Captain spread and Steve has a decision to make.

“Wake up.”

A hand shakes Steve awake. Steve bolts upright and leaps from his makeshift bed on Clark’s couch. He scans the room. It’s empty save for Clark.

“Sorry, I just figured you wouldn’t want to be late for work. Bagel?”

Steve nibbles on his bagel as they walk to work. Clark is glowing with his usual good health, giving no indications that the kryptonite had any lasting effect on him.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Clark starts before they’re even halfway to work.

“About?” Steve asks neutrally.

“About doing this more often.” Clark says.

“Doing what? Inviting me to sleep on your couch or inhaling kryptonite?”

“Hilarious,” Clark says, “I didn’t think sarcasm was around back in your day.”

“Please, my generation invented it. We needed something to keep us entertained between battles.” Steve says finishing his bagel.

“I meant teaming up.” Clark says. Steve purposely does not look at Clark. He doesn’t need to, to know that Clark is giving him the same look he gives Lois when he wants to lead on the byline.

“I’m retired.” Steve says.

“Oh yes, you looked very retired the other night when you were bashing Neo-Nazis with your shield.”

“That’s different. I come out of retirement for Nazis.” Steve says waving him off.

“Listen we don’t know how many kryptonite weapons Greks put out there. What if the police don’t get all of them?” Clark asks. Steve glances over. Clark is frowning and looking away. He’s hiding it well, but Steve can tell, Clark is scared. The Kryptonite gas rattled him.

“Ok.” Steve says, “you think you’re going into something kryptonite or something you can’t handle, call me. But for day to day stuff, I think Superman can handle it without the Captain.”

Clark nods, “Thank you.”

They walk in companionable silence through the crowded noisy streets until Clark says, “I give you a month.”

“Excuse me?” Steve asks.

“Until you’re back out there, getting involved in situations that contain neither Nazis nor kryptonite.” Clark says. Steve raises an eyebrow.

“I saw you out there. You are not the sit on the sidelines and let things pass you by type of guy.” Clark says knowingly, “One of these days you’re going to stumble across a mugging or something and I won’t be around and you’ll throw yourself into the fight.”

Steve snorts, but doesn’t disagree. This world had Superman and Batman and possibly more heroes waiting to be discovered, but nobody, not even Superman, could be everywhere at once. And like he told Tony long ago, when he sees a situation pointed south he can’t ignore it. So he will enjoy this break, enjoy watching as Superman saves the day, while it lasts. He might even last the whole month, but sooner or later Steve will be back out there fighting the good fight. 

Steve expects that with the Neo-Nazi scandal wrapping up and he and Clark no longer making headlines that The Captain would fade away as yesterday’s news. He is shocked when only a few days after the first trials for the Neo-Nazis began a certain article dominates the front page of The Metropolis Star. The title, _Oh Captain, My Captain,_ makes no secret as to what the article will be about, nor does the blurry picture of himself mid throw of his shield. He checks the author, just to confirm that Clark isn’t behind it.

It questions Steve’s sudden appearance and equally sudden disappearance before baselessly speculating that Steve was a marine who infiltrated the organization and exposed them on behalf of the government. Steve rolls his eyes.

“A marine?” Steve asks, “I could tolerate everything else, but a marine?”

“That’s the Metropolis Star for you,” Clark shrugs, “you wouldn’t get such shoddy reporting from the Daily Planet.”

“I would hope not.”

“If The Captain wanted to give an interview, maybe set the record straight, the Daily Planet would be happy to write a counter article.” Clark says innocently.

“And why would The Captain do that? I’m pretty sure he’s lying low and hoping that public interest in him fades.” Steve says shoving the paper away and turning back to his drawing. Perry wants him finished with it by noon and he hasn’t even started coloring.

“Oh that’s not happening.” Clark says.

“What?” Steve asks glancing up.

“The public interest, it’s not fading. If anything, his mysterious disappearance has only made it grow.” Clark says far too cheerfully.

“You’re joking.” Steve says flatly.

“Nope, Metropolis just really loves their heroes.”

“They have a hero. You’d think Superman would be enough for the city.” Steve says.

“There’s room in Metropolis for two.” Clark says, and then dropping his voice, adds, “After all New York City had a full team.”

“Yeah and a full team was apparently too much.” Steve says. The playful grin slips off Clark’s face. He leans against the desk and watches as people walk by. Steve ignores him and continues working on his drawing.

“It’s not a bad thing. People just want to welcome him.” Clark finally says, not turning to look at Steve, “Metropolis isn’t like New York City. The people wouldn’t turn on him.”

“It’s not the people I worry about, it’s the government.” Steve says.

Clark shrugs, “I’m pretty sure if the government is going to go after anybody it’s the flying alien with heat vision. The Captain doesn’t have any…baggage with this government.”

Steve sets down his pencil, “You really want an interview.”

“Nah, not really. Lois is better at direct interviews than I am. I just want you to get proper credit for what you did.” Clark says.

“I didn’t do it for the credit.”

“Obviously not,” Clark says, “but you didn’t do it for the government either.”

Steve plays with his pencil. Clark isn’t wrong. He got involved because it was the right thing to do, not because Uncle Sam demanded it. He’s done marching to that particular tune and he wants to make that point very clear in case certain people in the government start getting ideas.

“Besides, I’ve heard around town that you have quite the growing fan base,” Clark adds with a grin, “I’m sure they would love it.”

“I don’t need a fan base.” Steve says, “Last time I had one it ended up with Captain America comic books and trading cards.”

Clark’s eyes go wide, “Captain America trading cards? I want some of those.”

“Funny. I didn’t have a say in their creation.” Steve says, “anyway I have to get back to work before Perry has my head.”

“Alright, just think about what I said.”

“I will,” Steve promises. And he does. He does more than just think; he dwells on it. He plays scenarios over and over again in his mind. What would he even say? He can’t just give the whole truth, but he also can’t lie. He wants people to know that everything he does he does on his own accord. He wants people to trust him, that when they see his shield flying they know he’s here to help and not to harm. But, he’s done the press circuit before, both during the forties and modern day. At best it’s uncomfortable, at worst they twist everything you say to fit their narrative and it becomes a waste of time. As he thinks he reads. He reads Lois’s first article on Superman and follows it up by reading all her articles on Superman. Then he switches to other papers and reads their articles on Superman, as well as any statement a government official has ever given regarding Superman. That completed, he reads the Metropolis Star’s article on himself, followed by the other articles on himself. Most from respectable papers, but an uncomfortable amount coming from trashy tabloids next to articles regarding bigfoot and aliens that aren’t Superman. It’s a little concerning that these tabloids have gotten closer to the truth of his origin than anybody else. Finally, after much brooding on Jimmy’s couch to the poor boy’s confusion, Steve makes his decision.

Early the next morning Steve slips out of Jimmy’s apartment, clutching his shield for the first time in almost a month. From an alley he watches Lois Lane leave her apartment, coffee in hand. He waits patiently as she locks up and then stops to talk to her neighbor and then runs back inside for her notes on her latest piece, before she finally walks past.

“Miss Lane?” Steve calls. Lois turns around and then almost spills her coffee.

“Captain! You’re here,” Her notebook is out of her purse and in her hand faster than Steve can blink.

“Yeah, Superman said you were the person to talk to…if I wanted to tell my story.”

Lois preens, “Well I was the first person to interview Superman when he first showed up in Metropolis.”

“Yes, I went back and read it. It’s very good.” Steve says, “I was hoping you’d be able to do the same for me. I’ve noticed that certain rumors are starting to spread and I want to put a stop to them.”

“So you’ve read the Metropolis Star, I see.” Lois says.

“Them among others.” Steve says, “So can you help me.”

Lois eyes him thoughtfully, “If you’ve read my work you know I don’t write puff pieces. I write the truth.”

Steve smiles, “that’s fine by me. I might not be able to give you all the details, but nothing I saw will be a lie.”

They schedule a lunch meeting in an out of the way café where nobody will look twice at Steve’s costume. Steve spends the rest of the morning trying not to stare at the clock. If Clark weren’t there kicking his chair every time he passed, Steve’s sure he never would have gotten any work done. Lois leaves at a quarter to noon. Steve leaves a few minutes later.

Lois is there ordering her lunch as he approaches. The waitress hardly looks up from her pad, just asking what his order will be before marching off to the kitchen.

“So Captain, captain of what?” Lois starts with barely a greeting.

“Captain…well, some knew me as Captain America a long time ago, but I prefer just Captain now.” Steve says. Lois smiles, it’s sharp. The smile of a reporter that knows she’s got a good story. Steve drinks his water and settles in for a long afternoon.

Steve has met with his share of reporters, all starving for a good story. All too often at the expense of the truth. Lois isn’t like that. Oh, she’s hungry alright, she pounces with each question, but she never lets the thought of a good story stop her from getting the truth. Steve gives her an abridged version of his life. He talks about the Super Soldier program and the war. He mentions the ice and though Lois looks like she wants to ask more about that she stops herself at the look on Steve’s face, moving briskly on to her next question. Steve appreciates it; there are things he’d prefer not to dwell on. Most reporters back home hadn’t cared what he wanted. They wanted to hear about the ice. Did he remember any of it? How had it felt as he slowly froze, conscious until the end? Those questions got a no comment and a quickly ended interview.

Steve talks about the Avengers and about the government. He wavers about talking about the Accords before deciding that if he was going to defend these people they deserve to know the whole truth.

When he finishes he’s exhausted and even Lois seems to slump a little more in her seat.

“So, do you believe me?” He asks.

“A few years ago I might not have, but I regularly interview a space alien so I guess an interdimensional traveler from World War Two isn’t that hard to swallow.”

“And you’ll publish my story?” Steve asks.

“Look for it in tomorrow’s newspaper.” Lois says standing. She looks at him and then fishes a card out of her purse, “and if you ever want to do a follow up interview, call me. People are going to eat this story up.”

The next morning Steve gets into work early, snagging a paper on his way in. His story isn’t front page news and Steve sighs in relief at small blessings. He settles in to read. He’s known since he first started working at The Planet that Lois Lane was an exemplarily reporter. Sharp, she cuts through any fluff, and gets straight to the heart of the story. And now, reading his own story, he finds that Lois did not disappoint. He doesn’t come across as an invader from a foreign world, rejected by his home and here to cause trouble. Nor does come across as the next Superman. He’s just a man who wants to do some good in the world the best way he knows how. He puts the paper down, satisfied, and picks up his pencil, ready to start his day.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets a pair of unexpected visitors.

Steve is happy. He’s happy waking up in the morning, still on Jimmy’s couch. He’s happy going into his normal job and seeing his mostly normal friends, and he’s even happy when he slips on the shield and heads out in the evenings. He’s so happy he doesn’t even mind Clark’s teasing that he had retaken the mantle after only twenty-nine days of trying to live normally. It’s a comfortable routine, a good balance between the mission oriented life he lived with the Avengers and something more akin to the relatively simple childhood he grew up with.

It’s Friday and the clock has this hit five. Lois and Jimmy have all but strong armed Steve and Clark into having dinner with them instead of rushing off to do whatever it is they are both always rushing off to do.

The quartet makes their way down the street. There’s a cool breeze wafting the smells hotdogs from the nearby stand through the air. Lois and Clark are bickering about their latest investigation, while Jimmy is fiddling with his camera. Steve lets it all wash over him as looks up at the city that has become his home.

A red dot of light appears in the sky. The dot turns into a beam that makes the whole sky look hazy. Then, as suddenly as it appears, the red light disappears, leaving nothing but blue sky behind. Steve and Clark share a glance behind Jimmy and Lois.

“You know what…I left my art supplies at the office,” Steve says.

“I’ll help you carry those,” Clark says quickly as they both take off. As he runs, Steve starts planning. The beam had touched down in the direction of the park. On a nice night like this there are bound to be families there enjoying the fresh air. Citizen extraction and threat containment will be the two most important things. Now it’s only a question of how big and how ugly is the monster they’re facing.

Steve and Clark stop short at the park’s entrance. Nobody is screaming or running for their lives. A group of kids play tag while mom’s and dad’s talk on park benches.

“This is definitely the right place, right?” Clark asks. He fiddles with his glasses.

“Yes, I—” Steve stops. He starts walking forward.

“Steve?” Clark’s voice sounds distant, on the edge of his consciousness. Steve’s entire focus is on the two men loitering by a water fountain, trying to look inconspicuous. Steve feels his legs speed up. He doesn’t blink because he’s afraid they’ll disappear if he does. His mouth feels dry. He vaguely registers that Clark is following him.

Sam? Tony?” Steve asks. Sam and Tony look up at the sound of their names. It’s them.

“Cap,” Sam says stepping forward. Steve barrels into him. Sam is solid and _real_ in his arms. Steve pulls back and grabs his shoulders so he can take a better look at him. He looks tired. Stressed.

“Sam,” Steve says again. He can’t stop grinning.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Sam says grinning just as widely as Steve, “I’ve missed you. We all have.”

A cough distracts Steve. Tony leans awkwardly on the water fountain.

“Hey Cap.”

“Tony,” Steve greets. Tony has dark circles under his eyes and looks, if possible, even more tired than Sam.

“What are you two doing here?” Steve asks. Sam and Tony share a look. One that is lined with worry and tension.

“We need you Cap.” Tony finally says, “We have an Avenger level threat.”

Steve blinks and to his shame, his first thought is anger. They need him? They threw him across dimensions just so they could be rid of him. They couldn’t just change their minds now. How dare they. He has a life here now.

Reading his face, Sam puts his hands up, “Cap, Steve, just hear us out. Please.”

Sam’s voice is like a balm. These are his friends. This isn’t General Ross asking.

“Alright. Give me the details.” Steve says.

“Actually, perhaps before you do we should move this conversation somewhere more private.” Clark interrupts. He stands outside their group, looking in with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

“I’m sorry. Who are you?” Tony asks.

“Tony, this is Clark, Clark Kent. He’s a friend of mine.” Steve says quickly, “and he’s right. Clark, can we borrow your apartment. It would be hard to explain all this to Jimmy.”

“Of course.”

The walk back to the apartment is filled with stilted conversation punctured by awkward silences. Sam and Tony are tense, and any attempts at conversation has them drifting off into worried silence. Steve is able to find out how Bucky is; Good and adjusting to his therapy well. Clint is also doing well, as is his wife and the new baby. Natasha has been visiting the farm regularly and coming back with more pictures on her phone each time. When Steve asks after Thor the conversation dies.

“Here we are,” Clark says unlocking his door. Tony looks around, wrinkling his nose in distaste. Clark pretends he doesn’t see as he offers them all drinks.

“No thanks. This won’t take long.” Tony says, “You come back in an hour and we’ll be gone.”

“Come back? I’m staying.” Clark says.

“Listen, this really doesn’t involve you,” Tony says impatiently. Clark crosses arms and plants himself firmly in his living room. Tony steps forward, no less stubborn.

“Tony, enough. Clark stays. You can trust him.” Steve says before Tony gets blasted through a window. Tony looks at Steve and then back at Clark. Sighing, he all but collapses onto Clark’s couch.

“Fine, fine.” Tony says. Steve joins him on the couch as Sam also takes a seat.

“About a week ago Bruce came back.” Tony says. He stares straight ahead, not looking at Steve.

“That’s a good thing,” Steve says.

“Not exactly. Apparently on his space adventure he met up with Thor. Then Thor’s sister – did you know Thor had a sister—destroyed Asguard.”

“It’s gone, all of it?” Steve asks. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Clark pale.

Tony nods, “Everything but a handful of survivors.”

“How is Thor handling it?” Steve asks.

“Steve, Thor is…missing and presumed dead.” Sam says gently. A gamut of emotions run through Steve. Of all the Avengers Steve had held a special bond with Thor. They were both warriors and outsiders to modern America culture. Steve had taken Thor to his first baseball game and Thor had taught Steve how to play Knattleikr, an ancient Viking sport that involved a ball, bat, and a lot of pushing and shoving.

Thor was so full of life. Steve had never seen him seriously hurt, and knew that there were few things outside of Asguard that could hurt him. Steve knows Thor wasn’t a god, but the man had still seemed so permanent, so immortal, compared to the short lived humans.

“How?” Steve asks.

“Bruce was on the ship with Thor heading back to Earth when it was attacked. Some freak named Thanos. He took out everybody. He killed Loki, tossed Thor around like a toy and then took on the Hulk.” Tony says.

“And won?”

“Steve, he beat the Hulk so bad that Bruce hasn’t been able to transform since. _The Hulk_ is afraid.” Tony says. Steve bows his head while Tony keeps talking.

“It gets worse. One of his minions attacked Earth just after Bruce came back. They’re after the infinity stones.”

“The what?” Steve looks up.

“Remember the tesseract? Loki’s staff? They both had infinity stones in them. There are six in total and once he gets all of them its game over. He’s going to destroy not just the world but the universe.”

“How did you learn all this?” Steve asks.

“From a wizard, who was then kidnapped. It’s a long story. The point is we need you.” Tony says.

“It’s an all hands on deck situation Cap.” Sam adds.

“We got it all cleared with Ross. You can come home Cap.” Tony says.

“I am home.” Steve corrects without thinking. Tony’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Cap, this place is nice. Definitely nicer than where you potentially could have landed, but it’s not your home.” Tony says.

“I’d say it is,” Clark interjects.

“I’m sorry, did anybody invite you to the conversation?” Tony snaps.

“Well, considering that it’s taking place in my apartment, I’d say I’m involved.” Clark snaps back, “and your world threw him out and now when trouble comes you want him to go back? Where’s the fairness in that?”

Tony’s face twists with guilt, “Steve made his own choice. He could have negotia—”

“Bull,” Clark interrupts, “He never had a real choice.”

“Listen, we know the government did Cap dirty. Trust me; I gave him hell trying to change his mind about going.” Sam says, “but this is the fate of the universe we’re talking about. Billions of lives are at stake!”

“I know Sam,” Steve says standing up and clapping him on the shoulder as he passes, “and I’m coming.”

Tony’s shoulders sag I relief and Sam buries his face in his hands. Steve smiles, calm and reassuring, exactly what they need from him. Stepping back into the Captain America role is easy enough. He was quite literally made for the position. But a small selfish part of him balks at being stuffed back into a role he’s long outgrown. He wants to stay. He doesn’t want to sacrifice anymore. Hasn’t he given enough of himself to the world? Clark gives him a sad smile as if he knows exactly what Steve is thinking.

“Alright, let’s hit the road.” Tony says, standing up, “we don’t have all day.”

“Clark,” Steve says, “I know this isn’t really your fight, but we’re down a good man and with the fate of the world hanging in the balance, we could really use your help.”

Sam and Tony share a confused look.

“Cap, we have to go save the world. This isn’t a field trip. We don’t need an…accountant.”

“Reporter.”

Tony rolls his eyes.

“We’re down Thor and possibly the Hulk. We need his help.” Steve says, turning to Clark, “Please.”

Clark nods slowly, “Let me just call Wayne and see if he’ll cover Metropolis while we’re gone.”

Clark disappears into the kitchen. Sam and Tony turn to Steve.

“You’re not serious about him are you?” Tony hisses, “because it was hard enough convincing Ross that we needed you.”

“If this Thanos is tough enough to take out Thor and scare the Hulk, that I don’t know if we can do this without Clark.”

“Steve he seems like a nice guy, but I don’t think Thanos is going to be taken down by a hard hitting news piece.” Sam says,

Steve just grins, “Guys, just trust me.”

Clark comes back, “He’s not thrilled about it, but he’ll keep an eye on the city for me. I also called Perry. I let him know that Ma was sick and I’d be in Kansas for the foreseeable future and that you were taking care of a sick uncle in Gotham.”

“Steve do you have a job here? Like a normal 9 to 5?” Tony asks. He looks appalled at the thought.

“Of course I do.” Steve says, proudly, “I draw political cartoons for the newspaper.”

“Congrats man, that’s a perfect fit,” Sam says. Tony looks horrified, “It’s so boring. Couldn’t you at least join the army or something?”

“My army days ended in the forties,” Steve says flatly, “Come on, let’s go.”

They return to the park, it’s cleared out now that the sun has set. Still, Tony makes a show of looking around before tapping his chest. The Iron Man suit envelops him. Clark’s jaw drops, unable to hide the look of excitement working its way across his face. Steve appraises the suit.

“You’ve updated it.”

“Of course. Always room for improvement.” Tony’s voice coming out robotic like through the mask. He takes out a black cube with a series of dials on it. He fiddles with them before pushing the only button on it. A red beam of light comes out. The light gets bigger and bigger until there’s a shimmering red circle large enough to step through.

“Portable portals. Now hurry up, it’s not very stable and won’t last long.” Tony says. Sam follows, then Clark, and finally Steve with one final look at Metropolis.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle of Wakanda begins.

The chill of the park fades as Steve steps through the portal. His skin tingles and the hair on the back of his neck stands up.

“Steve!” Bucky’s voice is the first thing that greets him on the other side of the portal. He looks good. He’s shaved and trimmed his hair. The haunted look that lined his face last time Steve saw him has faded. Steve claps him on the back.

“How you’ve been Buck?” Steve asks.

“Good…I’ve actually been good.” Bucky says, a look of amazement on his face as if he can’t quite believe it either. Steve is grateful Bucky has been allowed to be here. He can only imagine how much cajoling took. Natasha is also waiting for him.

“Good to have you back Cap,” Natasha says hugging him, “But who’s your friend?”

Clark stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, like a man who has just walked into the wrong party but doesn’t know how to leave without insulting the hosts. He fidgets with his tie.

“Rogers!” General Ross storms down the steps of the lab, his face red with fury. He points at Clark, “Did you bring an unauthorized third party with you?”

Steve looks between General Ross and Clark and sees no point in lying.

“Yes Sir I did.”

General Ross sputters furiously.

“This is Clark Kent. He’s going to help us take down Thanos,” Steve says.

“Rogers, I need to see you in my office,” General Ross seethes.

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Steve says briskly, “I need to be debriefed on the Thanos situation.”

Steve marches past General Ross before he can respond. As he passes Natasha Steve pauses, lowering his head.

“Keep an eye on him. Make sure everyone plays nice for me.” He requests.

She rolls her eyes, “This isn’t a playground Cap; nobody’s going to bully your new friend.”

“Please?” Steve asks.

She sighs, fondness outweighing any exasperation, “Go get debriefed. I’ll look out for him.”

“Thank you.” Steve murmurs and continues his march. Ross follows, still red in the face, but clearly saving any arguing for the privacy of his office.

A chill forms in the air at Steve’s departure. The boys don’t know what to make at their uninvited guest and Clark clearly feels the same. Natasha rolls her eyes and sidles up to Clark.

“Well you don’t look intimidating,” She says, “but I once shared a team with a mild mannered rage machine.”

Clark grins. It’s slightly mischievous in a way that Steve is right before he starts a war story that sounds just a little too wild to be true, but somehow always ends up being backed up by old reports.

“Natasha Romanov, right?” Clark says, “You’re the Russian spy that taught Steve how to pick locks.”

Natasha does not beam with pride, she’s not that sort of person, but she does glow a bit. It’s satisfying to know that her lessons proved useful to him and good to hear that he’s apparently been getting into a healthy amount of trouble in his new home.

“So, what’s your deal?” She asks.

“I’m a reporter,” Clark says. He has no poker face, and even if he had one, she’d be able to see right through it. She crosses her arms, “Yeah and Steve is just a kid from Brooklyn. Come on, we don’t bite.”

Clark opens his mouth to respond and jumps with a startled yelp. He spins around. Tony holds a small taser like object with a screen.

“What was that for?” Clark asks crossing his arms. Tony hardly looks up.

“Partially to see if you’d hulk out.”

“I don’t do that,” Clark huffs, “Partially?”

“And to get some readings on you,” Tony whistles, “You aren’t human are you?”

“Well..I, um, no.” Clark stammers. Natasha tracks his eyes as he glances at the door, probably hoping for Steve to come back and save him.

“These readings are crazy. I haven’t seen anything like this since Thor,” Tony says tapping away at the screen, “what are you the god of? Newspapers?”

“I’m not the god of anything. I’m from Kansas.” Clark says a touch defensively.

“What kind of corn are they feeding you in Kansas? Tony asks. Clark blushes and stammers. Honestly, it’s a bit adorable and if Clark is planning on sticking around Natasha can already think of at least one girl in finance she wants to introduce him to.

“Lay off him Tony.” Natasha says, “Steve won’t be happy if you break his new friend.”

“No, it’s fine. I usually try not to tell anyone, but I’m from Krypton originally. I was raised in Kansas.” Clark says.

“So you’re a spaceman. That’s cool.” Sam says, “You’re better than the ones who invaded New York a few years back.”

“Yeah, Steve mentioned that.” Clark says awkwardly.

“So you travelled millions, possibly billions, of miles from a distant planet so you could be a reporter.” Tony scoffs, “Only Steve could find an alien that was lame.”

He wanders back over to his computers.

“Don’t mind him. He gets like that when he’s stressed.” Sam says.

“And welcome to the team.” Natasha adds.

“Really? Just like that?” Clark asks. Natasha nods, “Cap brought you hear for a reason and I trust Cap.”

Steve returns an hour later looking unfazed. General Ross follows closely behind looking even more furious than when he left.

“Everybody suit up.” Steve says, “King T’Challa has been monitoring the approach of Thanos’s ships and we want to be ready for them when they get here.”

Steve watches as the team falls into their familiar rolls as everyone gets ready. Even Clark slips into action like he’s been a part of the team for ages. Tony takes the pilot seat of the quinjet with Natasha taking the copilot seat. Clark catches up to Steve as Steve takes his own seat. Like the others he’s changed. He stands straighter, Steve has noticed, when he wears the suit.

“Steve I could fly up to the ship and try talking with them.” He suggests. Steve shakes his head.

“Sorry, nobody approaches without backup. Besides, I read over Bruce’s report. Thanos is an ideological fanatic, beyond even Superman’s ability to reason with.”

He doesn’t look thrilled, but Clark acquiesces to Steve’s command. He joins the others on the plane, taking a seat next to Bucky near the back.

“Alright Avengers,” Steve says as the plane takes off, “I’ve been in contact with T’Challa. Bruce, Vision, Wanda, Rhodey, and Clint should meet us at the palace. From there T’Challa estimates that it won’t be long until Thanos’s ships enter our atmosphere. He’s going to come looking for a fight and after what he did to Thor and Asguard, Earth is going to give him one.” 

Steve surveys each person with a swell of pride. He missed his team, missed _leading_ his team. Working as a cartoonist is good honest work and being The Captain is fulfilling, but there’s a piece of him that belongs here. He can feel it just under his skin, like electricity sparking every time they get called out on a mission. Steve takes a seat just behind Tony and pulls out what sparse information they have on Thanos and the infinity stones. He’s already read it several times, combing over every page for any detail no matter how insignificant that may turn the tide of the upcoming battle.

“He’s good.” Clark says quietly.

“Speeches are kind of his thing.” Sam says.

“Used to give them during the war too.” Bucky says quietly, like he isn’t sure if he really wanted to divulge that tidbit of information. He watches Clark warily.

“That doesn’t surprise me. I’m sorry, we weren’t introduced before. Clark Kent.”

Bucky stares at him before finally replying, “Bucky Barnes.”

“Steve talks about you all the time. He talks about all of you really, but you; I don’t think he has a story from Brooklyn without you in it.” Clark says.

Bucky shakes his head, he gaze far off, “I’m not that man anymore.”

“Steve told me what you went through.” Clark says quietly.

“He blames himself. That’s why he left, so I’d be able to get help. Is he…is he happy there?” Bucky asks, sneaking a look at Clark before looking away.

“Yes. He misses you all, but he’s made a good life for himself.”

Bucky smiles softly, “good.”

“What about you?” Clark asks.

Bucky shrugs, “I’m not crazy anymore, so that’s a good thing.”

“Not crazy is a long way from happy. You deserve to be happy.” Clark says.

“You sound like Steve.”

Clark leans back in his seat, “I’ll take that has a compliment.”

“You shouldn’t. Steve’s an idiot who occasionally throws himself on grenades.”

“Grenades don’t hurt me so I’m still taking it as a compliment.” Clark grins. Bucky rolls his eyes but there’s a slight smile on his face and an ease in his shoulders that doesn’t disappear until the plane begins its final descent.

T’Challa is waiting for them as they step off the plane.

“Captain, it is good to see you back where you belong,” He says warmly shaking his hand.

He welcomes them all inside the palace and out of the oppressive heat. As soon as Steve enters he’s knocked back as something knocks into his midsection. He catches a flash of red light as it all but surrounds him.

“Hello Wanda,” He says hugging back. She steps back, still grinning at him as Vision, Clint, and Bruce all take turns greeting him.

Clark happily fades into the background, content to watch Steve with the friends he has talked so much about. Wanda is talking excitedly, her accent becoming more pronounced with each word. Bruce and Tony are off in a corner and by the way Bruce keeps looking over, Clark suspects Tony is informing him all about his alien status and “lame” career choices. Clint has situated himself next to Natasha on the edge, looking like a father watching over his large brood. It’s Vision though that interests Clark the most. Steve had told him about the technological marvels that existed in the 21st century, but Clark had never expected to see them. Vision moves stiffly. Clark can’t tell if that’s because of his metallic joints or perhaps he is just uncomfortable amongst the noise and intense emotion.

Watching Steve laugh and interact with his old team, it hits Clark for the first time; Steve had a life here. He had friends and a job. He had been a respected team leader and a recognized war hero. And Steve had lost all of that the moment he stepped into Metropolis. Just like he had lost it all once before when he went into the ice. It’s a humbling realization and Clark is overtaken by a surge of protective affection for his friend. He’s not going to let Steve lose everything for a third time. Not if Superman has anything to say about it.

“So, how long are you staying?” Wanda asks. The babble instantly quiets all eyes on Steve.

“Until the problem is solved and General Ross decides to relieve me from active duty.” Steve says. He gives them all a strained smile, “now let’s focus on the mission at hand.”

The palace is far more magnificent than anything Clark has ever seen. T’Challa leads them down a series of hallways and past numerous guards to a room with a table large enough for all of them.

“Okay team, Thanos will be here soon and it looks like Wakanda is going to be ground zero. Vision I want you in Shuri’s lab. She needs to get that stone out of your head. Wanda, stay near him so you can destroy it. The rest of us, I want outside. Clark, I want you in the air at the perimeter. I don’t want any space ship breaking off from the rest and hitting anywhere else on Earth. Everybody got it?”

There is a chorus of yeses around the room. Clark is impressed with the way Steve easily slips into the role of leader and the way the others follow him, after months apart. Clark is sure Steve enjoys being The Captain, but that’s nothing compared to being Captain America.

T’Challa has an army. Clark supposes that he shouldn’t be surprised; he’s a king with a palace, it only makes sense that he has an army to go with it. He also has a weapons room which he generously opens to the others. Clint immediately heads for a wall of bows while Bucky, Sam, and Natasha congregate by the small arms and knives section.

“Clark Kent,” T’Challa says. Clark jumps, he hadn’t noticed his approach.

“I noticed that you carry no weapons, my weapons are available to anyone aiding in the fight.” T’Challa says gesturing to the assorted weapons.

“That’s very kind of you, but I don’t need weapons for what I do.” Clark says.

“And what exactly is it that you do?”

“A lot.” Clark says honestly. T’Challa laughs, “Well, they are here if you change your mind.”

“Thank you,” Clark says sincerely, “Steve told me Wakanda was a private nation.”

T’Challa nods, “A previous failing that I am working to undo.” 

“Leading the world in a war against an alien invasion would be undoing it in a big way,” Clark says.

“Let us first see how the battle goes,” T’Challa says somberly.

They’re just outside the palace gates. All lined up and ready to fight. All staring anxiously at the sky. Clark sees it first. It enters the earth’s atmosphere blazing like a meteor. Clark longs to push off the ground. To leave Earth behind and confront the ship head on. But Steve calls for them to hold, so he does. The ship is coming in faster and faster. Then, halfway down, it bounces off seemingly nothing and explodes. The air shimmers around them.

“The shields are holding.” T’Challa says. 

“More incoming,” Tony reports over the comms. The next ships are smarter. They land outside the security dome that protects the city. Steve and T’Challa head down to meet with the leader of the invaders. Clark hovers above them, curious to see what these aliens look like.

It doesn’t go well. The invaders are as fanatical about Thanos as the reports say and the monsters they brought to fight on their behalf terrifying up close. Clark feels the hair rise up on the back of his neck. He’s fought a lot of things in Metropolis, but nothing like this. This isn’t a save the day and have lunch with Lois situation, this is all out _war_. Clark glances at Steve, as they march back to the others. There’s a calmness about him, like this is nothing more than a nightly patrol. After world war two and a previous alien invasion, perhaps that’s all this is to him. In the face of Steve’s calm authority, Clark feels his spine straighten. He can do this. He’s Superman and right now people need him.

The monsters are mindless, or at least Clark hopes they are. The way they throw themselves at the barrier, forcing themselves through even as they disintegrate. It’s sickening. A few make it through, and then more. Clark takes to the air and sees Sam, Tony, and Rhodey do the same. Guns and spears are firing. Rhodey and Tony are dropping bombs from above. Still the monsters keep coming. Despite the chaos, despite the fact that this is total war, and even despite the fact that Clark isn’t sure these beasts are sentient he can’t bring himself to kill. He uses freeze breath instead. Even under the Wakanda sun, he makes it cold enough to stop them in their tracks.

He hears his comm crackle to life.

“Ice? Really?” It’s Tony. He zips past Clark, filing missiles at a pack of the beasts.

“Not everyone needs to fire missiles.” He responds. He swoops low freezing several more in place before they can surround Clint. The archer waves his appreciation.

Clark would have liked to keep an eye on Steve. Ideally he would have liked to keep an eye on everyone, but the battle is pure chaos. There are too many of them. For every one he freezes a dozen more are there to take its place. On the ground things are even worse. Clark sees several people go down under a mountain of monsters. Others are tossed around like ragdolls. He reaches some. He can’t save all of them. They can’t win this fight. There’s just too many.

Then, in the middle of a cloudless day, lightning strikes. Lightning strikes several times and it brings with it a man. The man flies into the air and lightning crackles around him in all directions. When he crashes back to the ground the lightning follows, electrocuting dozens of monsters as if by his command. That’s when Clark realizes that the lightning didn’t bring a man. It brought a god.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark and The Avengers confront Thanos for the fate of the universe.

Thor, for that’s who it must be, fights like a warrior from legends of old. He fights so fiercely that Clark almost doesn’t notice the raccoon and sentient tree he brought with him. Clark blinks. At first he assumes his eyes must being playing tricks on him, but they are not. He is watching a raccoon shoot a machine gun while the tree creature impales several monsters with its arm-like branches. Nobody else seems perturbed by this sight, or perhaps they don’t notice it amongst the pandemonium.

Clark is distracted by Thor and his unusual allies by a new terror that joins the battle field. Wheels, giant bladed wheels, tear up the battle field. This Clark knows he can handle. He dives, fists first and flies through the middle of them. Blades break against his skin and gears grind to a halt. He bursts through the other side, leaving a pile of scraps in his wake. More follow where that one came from and Clark gets to work in the next batch.

“Damn Clark, not a scratch!” Sam says as Clark rejoins him in the air.

“Invulnerability has its uses.” He acknowledges. He scans the battlefield, plotting out where he will be most useful before rejoining the fray.

In a flash of red light Wanda joins the battle. She stands before the wheels and raises her arms. Red swirling power radiates from her. Clark gets inadvertently caught in her storm and he, along with the machine, is tossed halfway across the field. Clark pokes his head out of the dying machine, impressed.

He lands next to her.

“Good throw. If you take the left half, I’ll cover the right.”

She looks out over the battle. Her eyes glow red and she nods. They both get to work. The monsters and the bladed wheels just keep coming. Clark remains focused on his task, making detours to save people where he can. Suddenly Steve’s voice cackles in his ear.

“Everybody on my position.”

Clark lands next to Steve. Thanos approaches and he looks like nothing else Clark has ever seen. His purple skin stands out unnatural amongst the surrounding greenery. Avengers assemble, ready for the final fight. T’Challa attacks first. Thanos clenches his fist. A stone glows and T’Challa goes flying without ever touching him. More attack him. None come close. Thanos is set on his mission for the stone in Vision’s head. Clark watches Steve go flying, hitting the ground with a painful thud. He doesn’t get back up. Rage builds. Clark’s eyes glow red.

Clark lands in front of Vision. His heat vision burns hotter than it ever has before. He focuses on the gauntlet. He wills it to melt under his assault. Thanos laughs.

“Not bad boy, but this was forged in the heart of a star. There’s not a force on earth powerful enough to melt it.”

Then he clenches his fist. Clark tumbles through the air. He feels like he’s caught in one of Wanda’s red swirls. By the time Clark regains control he’s miles away. He hovers in the air. The battle still rages beneath him. Corpses of monsters and humans alike litter the field. Clark stares helplessly at it all.

Then something catches the corner of his eye. The sun, reflecting off ice. It sparkles throughout the whole battle field, still frozen despite the heat. The monsters still immobilized. Clark smiles.

Thanos is still tossing Avengers around like toys when Clark gets back. Nobody notices him. Steve is back on his feet, the lone defender of Wanda and Vision. Clark watches Steve grab the gauntlet like he’s going to rip it right off of Thanos’s oversized hand. For a heart stopping moment, it almost seems possible. Thanos’s fist doesn’t close. Clark sees Thanos’s other first move before Steve does. He shouts, but there’s nowhere for Steve to move. He can’t let go of the gauntlet.

Clark watches as Steve hits the ground. He doesn’t have time to check on him, Clark only has one chance to do this. He lands in front of Wanda. Thanos raises the gauntlet. Clark takes a deep breath. Then he blows. An artic wind blows across the savanna. Flowers wilt under the newly formed frost.

“What did you do?” Thanos howls. He stares at his outstretched hand, incased in a thick layer of ice. He grunts as he tries to force his fingers to move to no avail. Wanda lowers her hands, as she and Vision stare in amazement. Clark crosses his arms and admires his handiwork.

Clark hears thunder rumbling behind him. A giant ax hurtles through the air at Thanos’s outstretched hand. It slices through flesh with a sickening squelch. The ice incased gauntlet, still attached to Thanos’s arm hits the ground with a solid thud. Thanos’s eyes roll wildly as he stares at his severed limb. Clark should be horrified, but one look at Steve’s still form, and Clark can only feel cold satisfaction.

The beasts on the battlefield seem to know that their master is defeated. They turn tail and flee back to their ships with warriors hot on their heels. T’Challa takes command, calling on his security team to advance on Thanos and Thanos doesn’t fight.

“I was so close.” He murmurs, “I sacrificed _everything_ for it.”

Clark hopes T’Challa has a prison cell large enough for Thanos as he’s led away, flanked by over a dozen guards and Thor. The gauntlet remains where it fell for now. Clark ignores it in favor of Steve, who is just beginning to stir. Clark x-rays him. His skull is fractured, but already the serum is working on repairing the damage.

“Hold still,” Clark says gently. Steve ignores him.

“Where’s Thanos?” He forces himself to his feet. He’s unsteady but prepared to fight.

“Handled. T’Challa and Thor have him in custody now.”

Steve blinks, his eyes focusing on the remnants of the battle, “We won?”

Clark nods, “we won.”

They stagger back to the palace, where T’Challa plays gracious host with a feast already waiting for them. Clark fills Steve in on what he missed between bites of spiced lamb.

“He was amazing Captain. He _froze_ Thanos’s hand solid.” Wanda says.

“Of course he was amazing.” Steve says, “That’s why I brought him.”

“He is a worthy brother in arms indeed,” Thor says slapping Clark’s with spine crushing force.

“Ice breath is actually pretty useful,” Tony admits, and he’s smiling.

The jovial mood continues all through the feast and into dessert. Thor insists on swapping stories with Clark of previous battles. Clark has nothing that matches Thor’s stories of ice giants and Loki, but Thor seems just as enthralled by Metropolis as Clark is with Asguard. Clark tells them all of his and Steve’s Neo-Nazi hunt, with Steve’s occasional input. The story gets knowing smiles and lighthearted teasing throughout the table. Clark has never felt so a part of team before. There’s no hiding who he is. There are no feelings of being different. It’s just him and a group of people who just saved the universe together. It’s…nice. Clark wonders if Bruce would be open to forming a team with him and Steve when they go back.

Then he catches a glimpse of Steve laughing at something Sam said and realizes that he’s never seen Steve laugh like that, never seen him look so at ease. Steve belongs here. General Ross can’t make him leave; he just helped save the world. And Clark can’t ask him to come back to Metropolis with him. It can never compare to what he has here.

A servant slips into the room, approaching Steve and whispering something in his ear. Clark listens in.

“General Ross is on the phone. He’s demanding you give him a full report. He sounds…irate.”

Steve frowns at his unfinished slice of cake and thanks the servant. He stands up and the celebratory mood of the room vanishes.

“Don’t stop the party on my account,” Steve says, “I just have to take a phone call.”

“Ross.” Natasha says flatly and Clark wonders if she has super hearing that Steve forgot to mention.

Steve doesn’t deny it, “He wants a full report, possibly in person.”

Clark stands up and is immediately gratified to see that he isn’t the only one.

“If he wants an in person meeting than what are we waiting for?” Tony asks.

“Guys, I don’t need an escort.” Steve says waving them back into their seats. Nobody listens.

“Seriously guys. T’Challa has invited us all to this dinner. Don’t be rude by walking out on him,” Steve scolds. Clark hides a small smile. As T’Challa is one of the people standing, he doubts Steve’s excuse will hold much weight.

“Nonsense.” T’Challa cuts in firmly, “If General Ross wants an update than we shall give him one. All of us.”

Steve looks around at everyone standing, their meals growing cold and forgotten, and realizes he’s beat.

“Alright, fine. Let me talk to him first. Maybe I can at least put it off until tomorrow.” Steve says. He leaves he table. The rest of them give him a minute head start. They creep down the palace corridors like children playing hide and seek, as if Steve isn’t aware that he’s being followed. He enters a meeting room and shuts the door, locking it for added emphasis. They crowd around the door all trying to listen in. Tony is fiddling with his cell phone. Clark suspects he’s trying to tap into Steve’s call. T’Challa and Shuri are quietly arguing with each other on the best way to tap into the line as well.

Natasha watches Clark thoughtfully.

“You have super hearing, don’t you?” She asks. All heads swivel towards him.

“I might,” Clark allows.

“What are they saying?” Tony asks abandoning his attempts at tapping the line.

“Guys, don’t you think Steve deserves privacy on the phone?”

Everyone shakes their head no.

“Come on, Steve knows us all well enough to know that if he wanted to take a phone call in private he should have had to have been much more stealthy about it. He’s practically inviting us to listen in.” Tony says.

“He locked the door.”

“Locked doors don’t really stop this group.” Natasha shrugs.

“If you don’t we’ll just figure out another way.” Sam says.

“Fine.” Clark tilts his head. General Ross is angry. Angry that he wasn’t immediately told that the battle was over and angry that Thanos was still alive. Clark relays as much to the group, as well as Steve’s diplomatic overtures that go ignored.

“He’s demanding a meeting now. In person.” Clark says, “He wants Steve on a plane tonight.”

Clark listens more. The exchanges are terse with Steve rarely saying more than he absolutely has to. That somehow doesn’t stop General Ross from getting increasingly aggravated with all of Steve’s replies.

“Steve’s agreeing to meet with him.” Clark reports.

“And the rest of us?” Natasha asks.

“He didn’t ask for the rest of us. He asked for Steve.” Clark says as Steve and General Ross hash out the details. Clark hears the click of the phone.

“Call over.” Clark says as the Avengers try to scramble away from the door. Steve steps out and surveys them all.

“Since I know somehow you all heard that, I’ll be brief. I’m leaving tonight. I have an early morning meeting with General Ross to go over the battle and Thanos’s future.”

“I think you mean ‘We’ have a meeting.” Tony says.

“No I mean I. Tensions are already high enough.” Steve says, “There’s still a lot to sort out and bickering will make the process worse. So for now, until we have a plan in place, we’re playing nice.”

“We’re not very good at playing nice.” Natasha says.

“You’re Avengers. You are all more than capable of being polite for a few days in the face of unpleasantness.” Steve says and fixes them with a look that reminds Clark of Pa giving a scolding. A sheepish affirmative goes through the gathering in the face of a disappointed Captain America.

“Good. Now I have to head out now.” Steve says.

“You mean “we” have to head out now.” Natasha corrects.

“What did I just get finished saying.” Steve says. He sounds tired as the strain of the battle begins to wear on him.

“You can have your meeting, but we’re going back to America with you.” Natasha says sticking her chin out stubbornly. Steve sighs, but there’s a small smile threatening to break through and his voice carries a hint of fondness in it.

“Ok, let’s go. We move out in ten.”

They’re all in the plane and buckled up in under eight. Steve is last to board the plane after a quiet conversation with T’Challa. Steve takes his seat just behind the pilot’s chair. He has a pen in his hand and the beginnings of a report on his lap. He falls asleep before they make it out of Wakanda airspace, his report left undone.

Natasha quietly slips the pen from his hand and removes the papers from his lap. She brushes his hair out his face and presses a sisterly kiss on the top of his head. Clark didn’t realize Russian spies could be so affectionate. Natasha takes an empty seat next to Clark. Her mask is beginning to break and exhaustion is seeping through. She stares at Steve as she begins to speak. Her voice low.

“Is Steve happy in Metropolis?”

“He has a good job and friends and—”

“But is he happy?”

Clark glances over at Steve’s sleeping form and thinks about him when his hands are covered in pen smudges as he races to beat one of Perry’s deadlines and when he’s sitting on Jimmy’s couch debating baseball and when he’s patrolling the streets for a public who will never fully know just how much of a hero he truly is.

“Yes, he’s happy.”

Natasha lets out a breath, “Good.”

The rest of flight is spent in silence. Others drift off as well, though nobody except Steve stays asleep for very long. He wakes just before touch down. It’s midday in New York. Energy restored Steve practically bounds off the plane.

“Get some sleep guys, I’ll let you know how the meeting went.” Steve says.

They are at the Avengers base in upstate New York. Steve’s meeting with General Ross is in the city.

“I can fly you down to the city.” Clark volunteers.

“It’s fine. I have my bike. Get some rest Clark.” Steve says and Clark doesn’t argue. He’s tired. Despite the lack of kryptonite, the battle has taken a lot out of him. He watches Steve drive away before going inside. Tony shows him to a guest room. Clark’s asleep moments after his head hits the pillow.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Steve still missing it's time for Clark and the Avengers to do some digging.

Clark sleeps through the rest of the day and then through the whole night. He wakes up the next morning still in his suit and drooling on silk sheets. He changes and puts on his glasses before heading downstairs. It’s pouring outside and thunder and light clash outside his window. He checks the clock, just after nine. Steve should be back by now, or if not, he definitely should have at least called. Clark finds Natasha in the kitchen with Sam and Bucky.

“Is Steve back yet?” Clark asks. She shakes her head.

“Have any of you heard from him?”

“Not yet.” Sam says. Bucky’s metallic fist is slowly clenching and unclenching.

“He might have more meetings. I’m sure a lot of people want a report of the battle.” Sam continues.

“He hasn’t called. He hasn’t even texted.” Bucky says, “It’s not like Steve to not keep us updated.”

“He’s busy.” Sam insists.

“He’s also not answering his phone.” Natasha adds. She downs her coffee like it’s a shot of whisky.

“Ross is behind this. We never should have let Steve go alone.” Bucky says.

“Cap’s a big boy. He can take care of himself. If he doesn’t contact us by this evening then I’ll be concerned.” Sam says, “now come on, let’s go check out the state of the art gym Tony had installed.”

Bucky hardly looks placated but with a hand firmly on his back Sam manages to lead him away. Natasha watches them go, playing with her empty coffee mug.

“Sam’s putting on a brave face for Bucky, but he’s worried too.” She says. She doesn’t say she’s worried –Clark gets the feeling that Natasha isn’t the type to admit to those types of feelings—but he can see it lurking in the corners of her eyes.

“I could fly down there, have a look around.” He suggests. She smiles sardonically.

“That is a terrible idea.” She says.

“Why?” Clark crosses his arms, “I don’t see the problem.”

“Because you’re a super powerful being from both another dimension and planet with powers that General Ross can’t fully wrap his head around and you’re friends with Steve Rogers.” Natasha says.

“So, he can’t hurt me.” Clark shrugs.

Natasha smiles, “You don’t have to play a lot of politics do you?”

Clark shakes his head. Natasha stands up, stretches, and drops her mug in the sink.

“I’m going to go see if Tony finished hacking into the security cameras like I asked him to. Want to come?”

Clark follows her downstairs to Tony’s lab. Spare Iron Man parts and partially built suits are spread out across multiple tables. Tony stands in front of one of the many computers that in the room frowning.

“What’s the matter? Can’t get in?” Natasha asks.

“Of course I got in. I just can’t find Cap in any of the feeds. And when I went back to find where he was last seen all the recordings of the previous day have already been deleted.” Tony says.

“Security film is usually held for at least 48 hours before being recorded over,” Natasha says, her voice neutral.

“I know. Vision, Bruce and I are trying to see if we can get any proof that Steve ever actually made it to Ross last night.” Tony says. That’s when Clark notices Vision tapping away on another screen with an intense look of concentration on his face. Bruce stands over his shoulder, his expression grave.

“What about the tracker in his commlink?”

“It’s turned off. Last known location; just outside Ross’s compound.” Tony says. He taps away at the screen, his frown deepening.

“It’s not going great.” Tony admits. His shoulders are slumped and he runs his fingers through his hair.

“We’ll leave you to it,” Natasha says, “but let me know the moment you know something.”

Tony nods absentmindedly still staring at the screen. Clark and Natasha head back upstairs.

“Now can I go take a look?” Clark asks.

“You sound like Thor,” Natasha says, “but when dealing with people like Ross a scalpel is better than a hammer.”

“Is that why it’s raining so hard?” Clark asks as another rumble of thunder shakes the base.

“He’s angry.” Natasha murmurs.

“We can go together and both have a look.” Clark tries, “believe it or not but I can be subtle.”

“Are the glasses your way of being subtle?” She asks with a small smile. They’re interrupted by Vision phasing through the floor. Natasha doesn’t react, as if this is a normal occurrence. Clark avoids jumping, but barely.

“Mr. Stark is on the phone with General Ross.” Vision says.

“Tony called him?” Natasha asks.

“No General Ross called him.”

“Is it about Steve? Is he ok?” Clark asks. Vision turns his eyes on Clark. Clark isn’t sure how much a robot can truly feel, but he knows Vision must be able to feel something because his eyes look sad.

“It’s actually about you. General Ross believes that now that Thanos has been handled there is no reason for you to remain here.”

“But what about Steve?”

“General Ross is doing everything in his power to deflect Mr. Stark’s questions regarding Captain Rogers.” Vision says.

“I’m not leaving until I know Steve is ok.” Clark says. He doesn’t wait around for either of them to argue. He’s downstairs in Tony’s lab in the blink of an eye. Tony is all out arguing with Ross over the phone while Bruce is looking decidedly green as he listens in. Clark pulls the phone out of Tony’s hand.

“General Ross, its Superman.”

“Good, just who I wanted to speak to,” General Ross says, his demeanor instantly changing to calm and collected. It grates against Clark’s ear. He sounds exactly like the smarmy politicians Clark occasionally has to interview. The ones who expect softball questions and get huffy when they realize that Clark and Lois don’t write puff pieces.

“Where is Steve Rogers?” Clark asks.

General Ross completely ignores his questions, launching into a clearly prepared speech.

“Our world owes you a great debt. You risked for your life for a world that was not your own and partially because of your effort Thanos was stopped. The US government is grateful for your service.” General Ross says, and Clark rolls his eyes, “However, in the interest of restoring the world to normalcy, we believe it would be best for you to return home. I’m sure you are eager to return to your family and friends and life back in your dimension.”

“And what about Steve? Isn’t he coming back with me?” Clark asks.

“Captain Rogers will remain here. For his service, it has been decided that he should be granted a reprieve of his exile.”

That’s good news. It’s exactly what Steve deserves. But Clark doesn’t feel right about it. Steve would have called to tell them himself.

“Before I leave I want to speak to Steve.” Clark says firmly.

“I’m afraid that, that simply isn’t possible. Captain Rogers will be in meetings giving his report on the battle to various government agencies all day. I will pass on a message for you if you wish.” General Ross says smoothly. Clark’s hand tightens and the cellphone begins to crack.

“Meet me at the lab you first appeared in at 2 PM today.” General Ross says. He hangs up before Clark can reply. The dial tone buzzes in Clark’s ear. 

“What happened? What he say?” Tony asks.

“He said…” Clark stares at the partially crushed phone in his hand, “He said that Steve is going to stay here.”

“Well that’s great.” Tony says, “Sorry you’re losing your cartoon artist, but it’s for the best. We dug him up out the ice first.”

Natasha crosses her arms, scowling, “But did you actually talk to Cap.”

Clark shakes his head, “General Ross said he was too busy to even see me off.”

“That’s not like Cap.” Natasha says, “Come on, I’m gathering up the whole crew and we can all see you off.”

“I don’t plan on leaving without making sure Steve is ok.” Clark says earnestly. Natasha gives him a sharp grin, “Good.”

Natasha makes quick work of hunting everyone down. In less than an hour Natasha is herding Bruce, Tony, Vision, Wanda, Clint, Rhodey, Bucky, and Sam onto the jet. Clark feels impatient. Worry tickles at the back of his neck. Not feeling like sitting in a cramped jet for the next few hours to stew in his concerns he takes to the air himself. To his surprise, Thor joins him. The storm has passed, but dark clouds linger ominously. 

“We’ll find Steve.” Clark says.

“Aye,” Thor says shortly, all good cheer of the previous night lost, “But the Captain did not trust General Ross. He should not have been allowed to go alone.”

Clark feels the ghost of a smile cross his face, “I don’t think it’s possible to stop Steve when he decides to do something.”

Thor’s chuckle rumbles across the sky like thunder.

“I suppose not. I find humans to be very stubborn creatures, and the Captain is very human.”

The way Thor refers to humans is different than what Clark is used to. He’s never met someone before who understands what it’s like to be around humans without actually _being_ one. He wants to ask Thor how he does it, how he balances his unearthly heritage with a life surrounded by humans, but he can’t find the words. Silence lags between them, broken finally by Thor.

“I believe I heard Tony mention that you hail from a planet called Krypton.”

“Yeah, but I grew up in Kansas.”

“You see yourself as one of them.” Thor says. Clark looks surprised. Thor is watching him and there’s a wisdom in his eyes that Clark had missed before.

“I try to be like them.”

“A worthy goal to strive for.” Thor says, “There is much to admire about humanity.”

Clark and Thor land. Moments later Tony guides the jet down in front of the lab. Security is out there waiting for him. They don’t look surprised to see the Avengers with him. General Ross comes out looking well put together and a touch smug.

“I’m afraid you just missed Captain Rogers.” He says, “but how nice for the rest of the team to see you off.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I talk to Steve.” Clark says.

“Now don’t be unreasonable. You’re a guest in this world.” General Ross says. Clark straightens and puffs out his chest.

“I just helped save your world. Now tell me exactly where Steve went.” Clark says.

General Ross sighs, “Come inside. You’re causing a scene.”

Clark wants a scene. He’s prepared to stand out here arguing all night if he has to. By the way storm clouds are beginning to gather, Thor supports this plan. Natasha touches his arm. Her lips barely move and her voice is softer than a whisper.

“Inside is better. It lets us look around.”

Clark concedes to her point and they follow General Ross inside.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark and The Avengers find out what General Ross has been up to.

General Ross brings them to the lab. Everything is set up. A push of a button will create the portal that will send Clark back to Lois and the Daily Planet. There are also more guards here, all heavily and obviously armed. General Ross’s hand hovers over the button.

“I hope that you aren’t planning on making things difficult.” He says.

“Not difficult. I think it should be quite easy to tell me where Steve is.”

“I think it’s time for you to leave now.” General Ross says. He pushes a button. The portal hums to life. Through the red haze Clark can see the park that he had stood in only days before. General Ross waves his hand, gesturing him to go through. Clark crosses his arms.

“If you refuse to comply with direct orders you will be deemed a hostile force and dealt with appropriately,” General Ross warns. Clark ignores him. He begins x-raying the walls, looking for Steve. Beyond the lab there are mostly offices, the occasional boardroom, a few restrooms, and a cafeteria. Nothing that brings him any closer to finding Steve. The click of a gun snaps Clark back.

“I wouldn’t,” Clark warns.

“Then leave. You are no longer welcomed here.” General Ross says.

“No.”

The guard opens fire. Clark catches the bullet and crushes it. He brushes the bullet dust from his hands and approaches the guard. The man reeks of terror as he fires again. Clark lets it bounce off his chest and clatter harmlessly to the floor. He yanks the gun out of the man’s hands and snaps it in two.

“I don’t particularly care for guns.” He says handing the broken pieces back to the man. General Ross hides his shock beneath a scowl. He pushes a second button and an alarm goes off. More armed security guards pour in; all have their weapons pointed at Clark.

“You can shoot at me all day; you’ll just be wasting your bullets.” Clark says. He looks up. They’re in a several storied building; perhaps Steve is on a different floor. He x-rays each floor. Nothing.

“This is ridiculous Ross. You know we’ll tear this whole place apart looking for Cap.” Sam says.

The guards swivel, pointing their guns at a target that they know isn’t bulletproof. To his credit, Sam hardly looks phased.

“You know we will.”

“Stand down Wilson.” General Ross says. The guards are jumpy. It’s clear that they don’t like being in the presence of a being who is invulnerable. They keep their guns pointed on the people they know they can actually hurt with them, fingers drifting closer to the triggers. Clark doesn’t like where this is heading. He stops scanning the other floors and takes off around the room. In seconds he has relieved each guard of their weapon, dumping them all in a pile in the middle of the floor. General Ross’s face turns red with fury.

“How dare you,” he seethes.

“How dare I?” Clark snaps, “You ordered your men to shoot at me.”

Frustration wells up in his chest. Maybe he was wrong. Perhaps Steve would be better off in Metropolis and far away from General Ross’s reach.

Steve isn’t on this level or any of the levels above, but a place like this probably has some sort of a basement. He looks at the ground with an intense look of concentration.

“What are you doing?” General Ross snaps.

“X-Raying the place.” Clark says. There is a basement. It seems to be used for mostly storage of spare equipment. 

“Stop that.” General Ross says, going white under his mustache.

“Why can’t he have a look around? Something to hide?” Natasha asks.

“Everything on site is highly classified.” General Ross says, but Clark isn’t listening. His breath catches.

“What did you do?” Clark whispers. He grabs General Ross by the throat, lifting him high in the air, “What did you do?”

General Ross gags.

“Clark! What did you see?” Natasha asks. Her face is pale and grim, like she’s expecting the worst.

“They froze him. He’s in a tube.” Clark says. He feels the full weight of the horror of it pressing against him. Then General Ross is ripped from his grip by a metallic arm. Bucky’s face is warped by grief and anger. He brings his fist down, smashing it into General Ross’s face. Blood streams from his broken nose. He raises his fist for a second strike and for one horrible second Clark almost lets him do it. He catches Bucky’s arm at the last moment, inches from General Ross’s face. Bucky turns to stare at Clark, betrayal in his eyes.

“Steve needs us.” Clark says. Bucky’s face hardens into a look of determination. He drops General Ross, who collapses to floor with a groan. Clark lets go of him. Clark flies downstairs and the others aren’t far behind. Clark gazes at Steve’s still form. A hopeful interpretation would be that Steve looks like he’s sleeping, but Steve doesn’t sleep so unnaturally straight on his back like that. He looks dead, laid out in a clear icy coffin.

He hears the others pounding down the stairs, but he can’t bring himself to look away from Steve. There’s an unhealthy bluish tint to his skin and his chest isn’t moving. Clark has to forcibly remind himself that Steve has survived the ice before.

Natasha and Clint come down last, dragging General Ross with him.

“Did you have to bring the trash with you?” Tony asks, sparing General Ross a contemptuous look, before turning his attention to the tube that Steve is in. Natasha ignores Tony as she and Clint shove General Ross against the wall.

“Why?” Natasha asks. General Ross glares at her. Clint pushes General Ross to the ground and pulls out an arrow. Shoving it roughly against General Ross’s throat Clint growls, “Start talking.”

“I don’t have to answer to you, Agent Bartan.”

“It’s either me or I hand you over to Thor,” Clint says, “and I’d like to see the army try to stand against an angry god.”

General Ross glances at Thor, who is too busy watch Steve to notice, his expression sours into fear.

“Captain Roger’s exile was meant to be a punishment.” He says gruffly. “It wasn’t supposed to be a second chance at the good life.”

“Of all the…How…” Clint is speechless with rage. Natasha is decidedly less speechless.

“You did this because Steve looked too happy? Of all the petty acts. You’re a disgusting excuse of a man.” She snaps. Her cheeks flush with more emotion than Clark has ever seen from her.

“Guys,” Tony interrupts, “we have bigger problems.”

His hands are shaking as he taps on the control screen.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asks, “Just undo the freeze and let him out.”

Tony shakes his head, “I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” Bucky growls. He’s standing by Steve’s head, metal hand pressed flat against the cold glass.

“I mean it’s permanent.” Tony says. He steps away from the control panel so Bruce can examine it.

“No it’s not. This is exactly like the one hydra put me in.” Bucky says, “It can’t be permanent.”

Bucky’s face looks haunted, and despite his borderline panic over Steve’s situation, Clark’s heart aches for him.

“Someone, either purposefully or accidentally, messed up the controls,” Tony says accusingly. All eyes turn to General Ross. General Ross looks up at them all with a bloody face.

“I’ve done nothing wrong. I removed a highly dangerous criminal from society.” He says. He looks at Steve’s body remorselessly, his eyes cold.

“You killed him,” Bucky snarls and launches himself at General Ross. Clark doesn’t blame him, a part of him wants to do the same, but Steve wouldn’t want Bucky getting into trouble on his behalf. Clark grabs him by the middle. Bucky fights back wildly, arms thrashing. He reminds Clark of the barn cats back in Kansas; agile and strong, but feral. One of his arms catches Clark under the chin. Bucky grunts in pain.

“This isn’t what Steve would want.” Clark says, not letting go.

“He’s dead.” Bucky’s voice breaks. He shakes in Clark’s grip.

“He’s not dead.” Bruce says.

“What?” Clark drops Bucky. Bucky spins back towards Steve.

“You said it was permanent.” He says accusingly at Tony.

“It is. Ross set the freezing point way too high. He’s alive, in suspended animation, but we can’t unthaw him.” Tony says quietly, “Any attempts to do so would kill him.”

“So there’s nothing we can do?” Clark asks. He looks at Steve’s body. There’s a fine layer of frost in his hair that sparkles in the dim light. The unfamiliar feeling of hopelessness invades Clark’s chest and settles uncomfortably in his bones. He let Steve down and from the looks on everyone’s faces he isn’t the only one with that thought.

“Not unless you can return him to normal body temperature almost instantaneously, because any slower would send him into cardiac arrest.” Tony says. Clark’s eyes never leave Steve’s unnaturally pale face.

“I can do that.” Clark says. Hope blazes like a flare. He can do this. How many times has he cooked a slab of frozen dinner meat in seconds? How many times has heated coffee to the exact degree he wanted? Granted Steve is far more important than any dinner or coffee, but Clark knows he can do this.

“Nobody can do it.” Tony says.

“I can.” Clark insists, “Please, let me try.”

“And if you’re wrong, you’ll kill him. At least like this he’s still alive.” Tony says.

“That isn’t a life,” Bucky growls, looking sick, “That is worse than death. Let him do it.”

“I agree with Bucky.” Natasha says, “He’d rather be dead than in the ice. Let Clark try.”

One by one everyone nods. There’s no other choice. Leaving Steve like this is intolerable. Death would be kinder. Tony is the last holdout but even he concedes. He goes back to the control panel.

“The moment this opens you have to be ready.”

Clark stands next to the cryotube.

“Open it.”

Tony pushes a button. There’s a puff of artic air as the glass slides away. Clark’s eyes glow red. The thermometer measuring Steve’s temperature rises too fast for the computer to calculate. Steve’s cheeks flush under the heat and the whole team collectively holds their breath while they wait for Steve to take his.

Steve inhales. His eyes flutter as his body begins to shiver.

“Steve?” Bucky’s whisper shatters the hope laden silence.

Steve takes another breath, and then another. His eyes open. He looks around, at first hazily like he isn’t really seeing them, but with each passing second he becomes a little more alert. He sits up and Thor drapes his cape over him like a blanket. Steve pulls it tightly around himself.

“What happened?” He rasps. They fill Steve in, while Steve fills them in on what happened after he left. How he met with General Ross and gave a full report. How General Ross had demanded Steve partake in a physical to study the effects of interdimensional travel on the human body and Steve had acquiesced. Steve hadn’t realized what it was he was stepping into. Had only realized what was happening in the final seconds as ice had filled the chamber.

“What do we do with the General for his treachery?” Thor asks.

“Nothing we can do.” Steve says. He looks tired and old. For the first time Clark truly understands Steve’s age. He’s an old man trapped in a young body. But a youthful body can’t erase all the tragedy that he’s seen.

“He nearly killed you. That’s definitely a crime.” Sam says.

Steve shakes his head, “not according to The Accords.”

“What?” Clark asks.

“The eighth amendment doesn’t apply to enhanced humans. Most laws pertaining to civil liberties don’t.” Steve says. Clark feels sick with the injustice of it all.

“So nothing is going to happen to him?” Clark asks.

“I’m afraid not.” Steve says. He gives him a frail smile.

“So he can try this again? He can try this every day until he gets the outcome he wants?” Clark asks. His world may not be perfect, but the injustice he sees on this one is unbearable, “and he can go after the others as well?”

“No. That he can’t do.” Steve says firmly, “that was in the deal I signed. They are to be left alone.”

“But he can still go after you.” Clark says and Steve shrugs like the thought occurred to him, but doesn’t really worry him. Nothing about his own health or safety ever seems to worry him and Clark feels an irrational burst of anger at Steve’s recklessness with his own life.

“That’s why you have to go back with Clark.” Natasha says. Clark feels a surge of relief that he doesn’t have to be the one to say it. This world isn’t safe for Steve, not with men like General Ross in power.

“No, I’m not running away.” Steve says.

“It’s not cowardly to think about your own life occasionally,” Natasha says, “Do you ever think about what your death would do to us?”

Steve shifts guiltily. Clearly the thought hadn’t crossed his mind.

“We can’t lose you to someone like Ross.” Natasha says.

“You won’t,” Steve says. She looks pointedly at the cryotube behind him.

“I’m not afraid of death,” Steve says trying another angle.

“None of us are,” Clint says, “that’s why we do what we do.”

“But that doesn’t mean you always have to be the one sticking your neck out,” Sam, “I saw what you had over there. It was a good life. Go back to it.”

“I don’t want to abandon you guys again.”

“Steve,” Sam says kindly, “you never abandoned us in the first place.”

Slowly Steve nods. It doesn’t take super hearing to hear his heart breaking at the thought of leaving, but in the face of a unified front, Steve agrees. They tie General Ross to a chair and troop back upstairs. Saying goodbye to Steve should be a private affair.

Tony heads over to the controls to call the portal back up. Each Avenger hugs Steve likes it’s the last time and Clark gets more than one command to look after him. Bucky lingers by Steve’s side. His hand reaching out to touch Steve every once in a while as if reassuring himself that Steve hasn’t left yet. Clark wonders what type of life Bucky has here. He’s as old as Steve. His family and friends from his old life are probably dead and he’s haunted by memories of a war that nobody but Steve can truly remember. It’s cruel to separate him from his friend again.

“You know,” Clark says moving to stand next to Bucky while Steve hugs Wanda, “Metropolis is a really nice city. Plenty of jobs for people looking for work and it has some great therapists, some with experience working with vets.”

“That’s good.” Bucky grunts, “Good luck convincing Steve to go.”

“I wasn’t talking about Steve.” Clark says. Bucky’s eyes widen.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Metropolis is more than big enough for one more interdimensional traveler. If you want.”

“Thank you.” Bucky says. He looks away, discretely wiping his eyes.

Tony is the last to step away from the machines and approach Steve. The portal glows red behind him. He hugs Steve tightly.

“Cap for everything…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Steve says, “Just look out for them.”

Steve steps towards the portal.

“Wait!” Tony pulls out a black cube.

“Take it. In case you ever need us to help save Metropolis or something…Or you know, if you just want to visit for Saturday night movies. I’ll build another for this side.” Tony babbles, “It might not be safe for you to live here but we can always smuggle you back for pizza. Right?”

Steve takes the cube a slow smile forming.

“Movies and pizza are worth dimension hopping for.” He confirms.

“Good, now go home Cap. You probably have work tomorrow.”

Steve nods, then he, Clark, and Bucky step through the portal towards home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done! Thanks for reading and thanks for all the lovely feedback! I had so much fun writing this. I do have a sequel to this mostly written and I should have the first chapter of that up in a week or two for anyone interested.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Decision](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24441937) by [deadestbreadest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadestbreadest/pseuds/deadestbreadest)




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